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THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


THINKING 
AS  A  SCIENCE 

BY 

HENRY  HAZLITT 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 

681  FIFTH  AVENUE 


Copyright,  1918 

By  E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 


Fifth  printing 


Marsh,  1920 


i 


CONTENTS 

|i  CHAPTER  PAGE 

'  I  The  Neglect  op  Thinking  ....  1 

li 

I  II  Thinking  With  Method . 11 

III  A  Few  Cautions . 51 

II 

;  IV  Concentration . 68 

"  V  Prejudice  and  Uncertainty  ....  99 

« 

*;  VI  Debate  and  Conversation  ....  129 

I  VII  Thinking  and  Reading . 135 

VIII  Writing  One’s  Thoughts  ....  191 
IX  Things  Worth  Thinking  About  .  .  207 

X  Thinking  as  an  Art . 237 

i  XI  Books  on  Thinking . 248 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


I 

THE  NEGLECT  OF  THINKING 

Every  man  knoAvs  there  are  evils  in  the 
Av^orld  which  need  setting  right.  Every 
man  has  pretty  definite  ideas  as  to  what  these 
e\dls  are.  But  to  most  men  one  in  particular 
stands  out  vividly.  To  some,  in  fact,  this 
stands  out  with  such  startling  viAddness  that 
they  lose  sight  of  other  evils,  or  look  upon  them 
as  the  natural  consequences  of  their  own  par¬ 
ticular  evil-in-chief. 

To  the  Socialist  this  evil  is  the  capitalistic 
system ;  to  the  prohibitionist  it  is  intemperance ; 
to  the  feminist  it  is  the  subjection  of  women;  to 
the  clergyman  it  is  the  decline  of  religion;  to 
Andrew  Carnegie  it  is  war;  to  the  staunch  Re¬ 
publican  it  is  the  Democratic  Party,  and  so  on, 
ad  infinitum. 


1 


2 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


I,  too,  have  a  pet  little  evil,  to  which  in  more 
passionate  moments  I  am  apt  to  attribute  all  the 
others.  This  evil  is  the  neglect  of  thinking. 
And  when  I  say  thinl^ing  I  mean  real  thinking, 
independent  thinking,  hard  tliinking. 

You  protest.  You  say  men  are  thinking  more 
now  than  they  ever  were.  You  bring  out  the 
almanac  to  prove  by  statistics  that  illiteracy 
is  declining.  You  point  to  our  magnificent 
libraries.  You  point  to  the  multiplication  of 
books.  You  show  beyond  a  doubt  that  people 
are  reading  more  now  than  ever  before  in  all 
history.  .  .  . 

Very  well,  exactly.  That  is  just  the  trouble. 
Most  people,  when  confronted  with  a  problem, 
immediately  acquire  an  inordinate  desire  to 
“read-up”  on  it.  When  they  get  stuck  men¬ 
tally,  the  first  thing  such  people  do  is  to  run  to 
a  book.  Confess  it,  have  you  not  often  been  in 
a  waiting  room  or  a  Pullman,  noticed  people 
all  about  you  reading,  and  finding  yourself  with¬ 
out  any  reading  matter,  have  you  not  wished 
that  you  had  some? — something  to  “occupy 
your  mind”?  And  did  it  ever  occur  to  you 
that  you  had  within  you  the  power  to  occupy 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


3 


your  mind,  and  do  it  more  profitably  than  all 
those  assiduous  readers?  Briefly,  did  it  ever 
occur  to  you  to  think? 

Of  course  you  “thought” — in  a  sense. 
Thinking  means  a  variety  of  things.  You  may 
have  looked  out  of  your  train  window  while 
passing  a  field,  and  it  may  have  occurred  to  you 
that  that  field  would  make  an  excellent  baseball 
diamond.  Then  you  “thought”  of  the  time 
when  you  played  baseball,  “thought”  of  some 
particular  game  perhaps,  “thought”  how  you 
had  made  a  grand  stand  play  or  a  bad  muff, 
and  how  one  day  it  began  to  rain  in  the  middle 
of  the  game,  and  the  team  took  refuge  in  the 
carriage  shed.  Then  you  “thought”  of  other 
rainy  days  rendered  particularly  vivid  for 
some  reason  or  other,  or  perhaps  your  mind 
came  back  to  considering  the  present  weather, 
and  how  long  it  was  going  to  last.  .  .  .  And  of 
course,  in  one  sense  you  were  “thinking.”  But 
when  I  use  the  word  thinking,  I  mean  thinking 
with  a  purpose,  with  an  end  in  view,  Blinking 
to  solve  a  problem.  I  mean  the  kind  of  think¬ 
ing  that  is  forced  on  us  when  we  are  decid¬ 
ing  on  a  course  to  pursue,  on  a  life  work  to 


4 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


take  up  perhaps ;  the  kind  of  thinldng  that  was 
forced  on  us  in  our  younger  days  when  we  had 
to  find  a  solution  to  a  problem  in  mathematics, 
or  when  we  tackled  psychology  in  college.  I  do  \ 
not  mean  “thinldng”  in  snatches,  or  holding  j 
petty  opinions  on  this  subject  and  on  that.  I 
mean  thought  on  significant  questions  which  lie  ; 
outside  the  bounds  of  your  narrow  personal 
welfare.  This  is  the  kind  of  thinking  which  is 

I 

now  so  rare — so  sadly  needed!  \ 

Of  course  before  this  can  be  revived  we  must  j 
arouse  a  desire  for  it.  We  must  arouse  a  de-  ' 
sire  for  thinking  for  its  own  sake;  solving  prob¬ 
lems  for  the  mere  sake  of  solving  problems. 
But  a  mere  desire  for  thinking,  praiseworthy 
as  it  is,  is  not  enough.  We  must  know  how  to 
think,  and  to  that  end  we  must  search  for  those 
rules  and  methods  of  procedure  which  will 
most  help  us  in  thinking  creatively,  originally, 
and  not  least  of  all  surely,  correctly. 

When  they  think  at  all,  the  last  thing  men 
think  about  is  their  own  thoughts.  Every  sen¬ 
sible  man  realizes  that  the  perfection  of  a  me¬ 
chanical  instrument  depends  to  some  extent 
upon  the  perfection  of  the  tools  with  which  it 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


5 


is  made.  No  carpenter  would  expect  a  per¬ 
fectly  smooth  board  after  using  a  dented  or 
chipped  plane.  No  gasolene  engine  manufac¬ 
turer  would  expect  to  produce  a  good  motor  un¬ 
less  he  had  the  best  lathes  obtainable  to  help 
him  turn  out  his  product.  No  watchmaker 
would  expect  to  construct  a  perfectly  accurate 
timepiece  unless  he  had  the  most  delicate  and 
accurate  tools  to  turn  out  the  cogs  and  screws. 
Before  any  specialist  produces  an  instrument  he 
thinks  of  the  tools  with  which  he  is  to  produce 
it.  But  men  reflect  continually  on  the  most 
complex  problems — problems  of  vital  impor¬ 
tance  to  them — and  expect  to  obtain  satisfac¬ 
tory  solutions,  without  once  giving  a  thought  to 
the  manner  in  which  they  go  about  obtaining 
those  solutions;  without  a  thought  to  their  own 
mind,  the  tool  which  produces  those  solutions. 
Surely  this  deserves  at  least  some  systematic 
consideration. 

Some  remarks  of  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  under 
this  head  will  bear  quoting :  ‘  ‘  Human  thinking 
is  still  in  as  great  a  state  of  disorder  and  jum¬ 
ble  as  language  was  before  the  alphabet,  music 
before  the  scale  was  discovered,  printing  be- 


6 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


fore  Gutenberg,  or  mathematics  before  Pythag¬ 
oras  formulated  its  laws.  ”  “  This  systematiza¬ 
tion  of  all  thought,”  she  tells  us,  would  be  “a 
more  far  reaching  improvement  than  all  the 
others,  for  it  will  do  for  education,  health, 
economics,  government,  etc.,  what  the  alpha¬ 
bet  did  for  language,  movable  type  for  print¬ 
ing  and  literature,  the  scale  for  music,  and 
the  rules  of  arithmetic  for  calculation.  Being 
the  exact  counterpart  of  these  in  its  particular 
field,  its  mission,  like  theirs,  will  be  to  bring 
order  out  of  chaos.  ’  ’ 

I  believe  Miss  Wilcox  exaggerates  matters. 
Incidentally  I  for  one  do  not  pretend  to  have 
discovered  anything  revolutionary.  But  the  im¬ 
portance  of  the  subject  warrants  its  formula¬ 
tion  into  as  near  scientific  form  as  we  can 
bring  it. 

I  beg  no  one  to  get  frightened.  Science  does 
not  necessarily  mean  test  tubes  and  telescopes. 
I  mean  science  in  its  broadest  sense;  and  in 
this  sense  it  means  nothing  more  than  organ¬ 
ized  knowledge.  If  we  are  to  find  rules  and 
methods  of  procedure,  these  methods  must 
come  from  somewhere — must  be  based  on  cer- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


7, 


tain  principles — and  these  principles  can  come 
only  from  close,  systematic  investigation. 

It  may  indeed  be  urged  that  we  can  think 
best  by  disregarding  all  “rules,”  by  not  pay¬ 
ing  any  attention  to  method.  But  the  man  who 
maintains  this  must  give  reasons;  and  once  be 
attempts  this  he  himself  is  bordering  closely  on 
the  science  of  the  matter.  In  short,  the  settle¬ 
ment  of  even  this  question  is  part  of  the  science 
of  thinking. 

And  what  is  to  be  the  nature  of  this  sci¬ 
ence  ?  \/ 

For  our  purposes,  all  sciences  haay  be  di¬ 
vided  into  two  kinds:  positive  and  normative. 
A  positive  science  investigates  the  nature  of 
things  as  they  are.  It  deals  simply  with  mat¬ 
ters  of  fact.  Such  a  science  is  physics,  chem¬ 
istry,  psychology.  A  normative  science  is  one 
which  studies  things  as  they  ought  to  be.  As 
the  name  implies,  it  seeks  to  establish  a  norm 
or  pattern  which  ought  to  be  adhered  to.  It 
studies  means  of  reaching  desired  ends.  To 
this  class  belong  such  sciences  as  ethics,  educa¬ 
tion,  agriculture. 

Now  these  normative  sciences,  with  the  ex- 


8 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


ception  of  ethics,  are  nearly  always  referred  to 
either  as  “arts”  or  “applied  sciences.”  To 
both  of  these  terms  I  technically  but  strenu¬ 
ously  object.  I  object  to  the  term  “art”  to 
designate  any  set  of  organized  rules  for  doing 
a  thing,  because  “art”  also  means  the  actual 
doing  of  that  thing.  And  this  thing  may  be 
done,  and  often  is  done,  in  total  ignorance  of 
the  rules  governing  it.  A  man  may  possess  the 
art  of  swimming — he  may  be  able  to  swim — 
without  any  previous  instruction,  without  any 
knowledge  of  how  he  ought  to  hold  his  body, 
arms  and  legs ;  just  as  a  dog  may  do  the  same 
thing. 

I  object  also  to  the  term  “applied  science,” 
because  to  me  this  term  implies  that  the  science 
it  refers  to  is  based  on  one  positive  science  only. 
I  can  think  of  no  so-called  applied  science  which 
is  so  based.  Hygiene,  not  alone  dependent  on 
physiology,  must  derive  some  of  its  rules  from 
the  chemistry  of  foods,  as  well  as  from  the  sci¬ 
ences  of  sanitation  and  ventilation,  themselves 
normative.  Agriculture  is  based  not  only  on 
biology  and  botany,  but  on  chemistry  and  me¬ 
teorology. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


9 


The  science  of  thinking,  then,  if  such  a  sci¬ 
ence  there  be,  is  normative.  Its  purpose  is  to 
find  those  methods  which  will  help  us  to  think 
constructively  and  correctly. 

One  more  distinction  and  our  preliminaries 
are  over.  There  are  two  other  sciences  with 
which  the  science  of  thinking  is  liable  to  be¬ 
come  confused;  one  positive,  the  other  norma¬ 
tive. 

The  positive  science  is  that  branch  of  psychol¬ 
ogy  which  deals  with  the  reasoning  process  and 
examines  the  basis  of  belief.  We  shall  make 
frequent  use  of  this  science  in  trying  to  find 
rules  for  thinking,  but  it  will  not  be  the  only 
science  we  shall  use,  nor  will  that  science  be  the 
subject  of  this  book. 

The  normative  science  with  which  the  sci¬ 
ence  of  thinking  may  become  confused  is  logic. 
Indeed,  logic  has  sometimes  been  called  the  sci¬ 
ence  of  thinking.  Now  for  our  purposes  logic 
is  a  part  of  the  science  of  thinking,  but  it  is  not 
the  part  which  we  are  primarily  to  consider. 
Its  function  is  merely  negative;  it  consists  in 
leading  us  from  error.  The  part  of  the  science 
of  thinking  in  which  we  are  interested  deals 


10 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


with  those  positive  rules  which  will  help  to  make  , 
us  creative  thinkers.  ...  ! 

Our  ship  is  headed  for  the  port  Truth.  Our  | 
mind  is  the  engine,  the  science  of  thinking  the  i 
propeller,  and  logic  the  rudder.  Without  our  | 
engine,  the  mind,  the  propeller  of  the  science  i 
of  thinking,  which  transforms  our  mental  energy  I 
most  effectively  into  motion,  would  he  useless.  | 
Without  the  propeller,  which  gives  motion,  the  l 
rudder  of  logic  would  be  useless.  But  all  three 
are  needed  to  reach  our  goal. 

And  now  I  must  bespeak  a  little  patience. 
The  next  chapter,  and  the  one  following  it,  are 
going  to  deal  very  largely  with  method  and 
methods.  They  will  touch  on  classification,  and  I 
a  lot  of  other  tilings  to  which  the  plain  man  has 
an  aversion;  to  which,  at  least,  he  usually 
evinces  no  very  active  interest.  But  it  is  nec¬ 
essary  to  consider  these  things  in  order  to  make  ! 
our  study  complete. 


THINKING  WITH  METHOD 


Most  of  us,  at  those  rare  intervals  when 
we  think  at  all,  do  so  in  a  slipshod  sort 
of  way.  If  we  come  across  a  mental  difficulty 
we  try  to  get  rid  of  it  in  almost  any  kind  of 
hit  or  miss  manner.  Even  those  few  of  us  who 
think  occasionally  for  the  mere  sake  of  think¬ 
ing,  generally  do  so  without  regard  for  method 
— indeed,  are  often  unconscious  that  method 
could  be  applied  to  our  thought.  But  what  is 
meant  by  method?  I  may  best  explain  by  an 
example. 

From  somewhere  or  other,  a  man  gets  hold  of 
the  idea  that  the  proper  subjects  are  not  be¬ 
ing  taught  in  our  schools  and  colleges.  He 
asks  himself  what  the  proper  subjects  would  be. 
He  considers  how  useless  his  knowledge  of 
Greek  and  Latin  has  been.  He  decides  that 
these  two  subjects  should  be  eliminated.  Then 


12 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


he  thinks  how  he  would  have  been  helped  in  busi¬ 
ness  by  a  knowledge  of  bookkeeping,  and  he  con¬ 
cludes  that  this  subject  deserves  a  place  in  the  ! 
curriculum.  He  has  recently  received  a  letter  i 
from  a  college  friend  containing  some  errors  in  , 
spelling.  He  is  convinced  that  this  branch  of  i 
knowledge  is  being  left  in  undeserved  neglect,  f 
Or  he  is  impressed  by  the  spread  of  unsound  j 
theories  of  money  among  the  poorer  classes,  and  , 
he  believes  that  everybody  should  receive  a 
thorough  course  in  economics  and  finance.  And 
so  he  rambles  on,  now  on  this  subject,  now  on 
that. 

Compare  this  haphazard,  aimless  thinking 
with  that  of  the  man  of  method.  This  man  is 
confronted  with  the  same  general  situation  as 
our  first  thinker,  but  he  makes  his  problem  a 
different  one.  He  first  asks  himself  what  end 
he  has  in  view.  He  discovers  that  he  is  pri¬ 
marily  trying  to  find  out  not  so  much — what 
subjects  should  be  taught  in  the  schools?  as — 
what  knowledge  is  of  most  worth  ?  He  puts  the 
problem  definitely  before  himself  in  this  latter 
form.  He  then  sees  that  the  problem — ^what 
knowledge  is  of  most  worth?,  implies  that  what 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


13 


is  desired  is  not  to  find  what  subjects  are  of 
worth  and  what  are  not,  but  what  is  the  rela^ 
tive  value  of  subjects.  His  next  step,  obvi¬ 
ously,  is  to  discover  a  standard  by  which  the 
relative  value  of  subjects  can  be  determined; 
and  this,  let  us  say,  he  finds  in  the  help  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  these  subjects  gives  to  complete  liv¬ 
ing.  Having  decided  this,  he  next  classifies  in 
the  order  of  their  importance  the  activities 
which  constitute  human  life,  and  follows  this 
by  classifying  subjects  as  they  prepare  for  these 
activities.^ 

Needless  to  say,  the  results  obtained  by  this 
thinker  will  be  infinitely  more  satisfactory  than 
those  arrived  at  by  his  unsystematic  brother. 
Method,  then,  is  essential.  But  how  are  we  to 
apply  it  in  aU  cases? 

Now  there  are  methods  without  number,  and 
in  many  cases  a  problem  will  require  a  method 
all  its  own ;  but  we  here  purpose  to  take  up  only 
those  most  general  in  application. 

Before  considering  these  methods  of  think¬ 
ing,  however,  it  would  be  well  to  ask  ourselves 
what  thinking  is.  As  stated  before,  the  term  is 

1  See  Herbert  Spencer,  Education. 


14 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


loosely  used  to  cover  a  wide  range  of  mental 
processes.  These  processes  we  may  roughly  di¬ 
vide  into  memory,  imagination  and  reasoning. 
It  is  the  last  only  with  which  we  have  to  deal. 
I  admit  that  development  of  the  memory  is  de¬ 
sirable.  I  admit  that  development  of  the  imag¬ 
ination  is  equally  desirable.  But  they  are  not 
the  subject  of  this  book.  By  “thinking”  I 
mean  reasoning.  And  our  present  purpose  is 
to  find  the  nature  of  this  process. 

Modem  psychologists  tell  us  that  all  reason¬ 
ing  begins  in  perplexity,  hesitation,  doubt. 
“The  process  of  reasoning  is  one  of  problem 
solving.  .  .  .  The  occasion  for  the  reasoning  is 
always  a  thwarted  purpose.  ’  ’  ^ 

It  is  essential  we  keep  this  in  mind.  It  dif¬ 
fers  from  the  popular  conception  even  more 
than  may  appear  at  first  sight.  If  a  man  were 
to  know  everything  he  could  not  think.  Noth¬ 
ing  would  ever  puzzle  him,  his  purposes  would 
never  be  thwarted,  he  would  never  experience 
perplexity  or  doubt,  he  would  have  no  problems. 
If  we  are  to  conceive  of  God  as  an  All-Knower, 
we  cannot  conceive  of  Him  as  a  Thinking  Be- 

2  Pillsbury,  Essentials  of  Psychology. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


15 


ing.  Thinking  is  reserved  for  beings  of  finite 
intelligence. 

Were  we  to  study  the  origin  and  evolution 
of  thinking,  we  would  doubtless  find  that  think¬ 
ing  arose  in  just  this  way — from  thwarted  pur¬ 
poses,  If  our  lives  and  the  lives  of  our  animal 
ancestors  had  always  run  smoothly,  if  our  every 
desire  were  immediately  satisfied,  if  we  never 
met  an  obstacle  in  anything  we  tried  to  do, 
thinking  would  never  have  appeared  on  this 
planet.  But  adversity  forced  us  to  it. 

Tickle  a  frog’s  left  leg,  and  his  right  leg  will 
immediately  fly  up  and  scratch  it.  The  action 
is  merely  what  psychologists  would  call  a  “re¬ 
flex,  ’  ’  Absolutely  no  thinking  takes  place :  the 
frog  would  do  the  same  thing  if  you  removed 
its  brain.  And  if  you  tickle  its  right  leg  its 
left  leg  would  fly  up  to  scratch.  But  if  you 
tickled  both  legs  at  once  they  could  not  both  fly 
up  and  scratch  each  other.  It  would  be  a  phys¬ 
ical  impossibility.  Here,  then,  is  a  difficulty. 
The  frog  hesitates;  thinking  steps  upon  the 
scene.  After  mature  deliberation  the  frog 
solves  his  problem:  he  holds  his  left  leg  still 
while  he  scratches  it  with  his  right,  then  he 


16 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


bolds  bis  right  leg  still  and  scratches  that  with 
bis  left. 

We  cannot,  then,  think  on  “general  princi¬ 
ples.’’  To  try  this  is  like  attempting  to  chew 
laughing  gas.  To  think  at  all  requires  a  pur¬ 
pose,  no  matter  how  vague.  The  best  thinking, 
however,  requires  a  definite  purpose,  and  the 
more  definite  this  purpose  the  more  definite  will 
be  our  thinking.  Therefore  in  taking  up  any 
special  line  of  thought,  we  must  first  find  just 
what  our  end  or  purpose  is,  and  thus  get  clearly 
in  mind  what  our  problems  are. 

Advising  a  man  to  ask  himself  what  his  prob¬ 
lems  are  may  seem  absurd.  But  it  is  just  this 
confusion  as  to  what  they  want  to  know 
which  has  driven  men  into  error  time  and  time 
again.  The  history  of  the  never-ending  philo¬ 
sophical  controversy  between  “materialism” 
and  “idealism”  is  largely  a  history  of  differ¬ 
ent  ways  of  stating  the  issue ;  the  progress  made 
is  mainly  due  to  the  increasing  definiteness  with 
which  it  has  been  stated. 

One  of  the  most  frequent  sources  of  confu¬ 
sion  in  stating  questions  is  in  failure  to  distin¬ 
guish  between  what  is  and  what  ought  to  be. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


17 


Considering  woman  suffrage  a  man  will  ask 
i^’mself  “What  is  woman’s  sphere  I,”  when  he 
:ally  wants  to  know  not  what  woman’s  sphere 
actually  is,  but  what  it  ought  to  be.  Our  first 
step,  then,  is  to  get  our  problem  or  problems 
clearly  in  mind,  and  to  state  them  as  definitely 
as  possible.  A  problem  properly  stated  is  a 
problem  partly  solved. 

What  we  will  do  next  depends  on  the  nature 
of  the  question.  In  the  example  “What  knowl¬ 
edge  is  of  most  worth?”  we  proceeded  to  look 
for  a  criterion  of  worthiness.  And  this  was 
really  a  re-stating  of  the  question.  For  instead 
of  asking  ourselves  “What  knowledge  is  of 
most  worths,”  we  began  asking  “What  knowl¬ 
edge  best  prepares  for  complete  living?” 

Our  next  move  was  to  classify.  This  is  es¬ 
sential  not  only  to  systematic  reasoning  but  to 
thinking  of  any  kind.  Classification  is  the 
process  of  grouping  objects  according  to  com¬ 
mon  qualities.  But  as  almost  all  objects  differ 
in  some  qualities  and  almost  all  have  some 
qualities  in  common,  it  follows  that,  contrary  to 
common  belief,  there  is  no  one  classification  ab¬ 
solutely  essential  to  any  group  of  objects.  An 


18 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


infinite  number  of  classifications  may  be  made, 
because  every  object  has  an  infinite  number  of 
attributes,  depending  on  the  aspect  we  take  of 
it.  Nor  is  any  one  aspect  of  a  thing  “truer” 
than  any  other.  The  aspect  we  take  depends 
entirely  on  the  purpose  we  have  in  mind  or  the 
problem  we  wish  to  solve.  As  William  James 
pointed  out : 

“Now  that  I  am  writing  it  is  essential  that 
I  conceive  my  paper  as  a  surface  for  inscrip¬ 
tion.  If  I  failed  to  do  that  I  should  have  to 
stop  my  work.  But  if  I  wished  to  light  a  fire 
and  no  other  materials  were  by,  the  essential 
way  of  conceiving  the  paper  would  be  as  com¬ 
bustible  material;  and  I  need  then  have  no 
thought  of  any  of  its  other  destinations.  It  is 
really  all  that  it  is:  a  combustible,  a  writing 
surface,  a  thin  thing,  a  hydrocarbonaceous 
thing,  a  thing  eight  inches  one  way  and  ten  an¬ 
other,  a  thing  just  one  furlong  east  of  a  certain 
stone  in  my  neighbor’s  field,  an  American  thing, 
etc.,  etc.,  ad  infinitum,:”  ^ 

And  if  the  reader  insist  that  these  qualities 
are  merely  “accidental,”  and  that  what  the 

3  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  p.  332. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


19 


thing  really  is,  is  just  paper  and  nothing  else, 
the  reply  is  that  the  reader  is  intellectually  pet¬ 
rified;  that  though  “paper”  may  be  our  com¬ 
monest  title  for  it  and  may  suggest  our  usual 
purpose  with  it,  yet  that  purpose  and  this  title 
and  the  properties  which  this  title  suggest  have 
in  reality  nothing  sacramental  about  them. 

So  because  you  have  classified  something 
from  one  aspect  do  not  imagine  that  you  are 
necessarily  precluded  from  classifying  it  from 
any  other.  A  man  who  is  studying  the  theory 
of  money  may  divide  the  medium  of  exchange 
into  standard  money  and  credit  currency.  But 
this  need  not  keep  him  from  viewing  it  as  coins, 
government  notes,  and  bank  currency,  nor 
should  it  prevent  him  from  classifying  it  into, 
say  (1)  hand-to-hand  money,  (2)  written  or 
printed  orders  of  one  party  to  pay  specified 
sums  to  another,  and  (3)  book  accounts.^  All 
these  classifications  will  be  true ;  all  may  be  use¬ 
ful  for  a  full  comprehension.  Every  classifica¬ 
tion  should  of  course  be  logical;  but  it  is  far 
more  essential  that  it  be  utilizable. 

And  while  we  are  treating  of  utility,  we 

*  See  William  A.  Scott,  Money. 


20 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


might  note  that  this  pragmatic  method  can  be  | 
applied  with  profit  to  nearly  all  our  positive  ; 
problems.  Before  starting  to  solve  a  question  | 
— while  deciding,  for  instance,  on  the  validity  ; 
of  some  nice  distinction  in  logic — we  should  ask  ; 
ourselves,  “What  practical  difference  will  it 
make  if  I  hold  one  opinion  or  the  other!  How  ! 
will  my  belief  influence  my  action!” — (using 
the  word  “action”  in  its  broadest  sense).  This 
may  often  lead  our  line  of  inquiry  into  more 
fruitful  channels,  keep  us  from  making  flue  but  , 
needless  distinctions,  help  us  to  word  our  ques-  , 
tion  more  relevantly,  and  lead  us  to  make  dis¬ 
tinctions  where  we  really  need  them. 

We  are  now  ready  to  consider  in  order  a  num¬ 
ber  of  constructive  methods  in  thinking. 

One  method  applicable  to  almost  all  problems  ! 
is  what  we  may  call  either  the  deductive  or  the  ^ 
d  priori  method.  This  method  reaches  a  con¬ 
clusion  without  observation  or  experiment.  It 
consists  in  reasoning  from  previous  experience 
or  from  established  principles  to  particular 
facts.  It  may,  however,  be  used  to  confirm  ob¬ 
servation  and  experiment  as  well  as  to  take 
their  place.  Take  the  all  important  questions  in 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


21 


biology  of  whether  or  not  specific  characteris¬ 
tics  acquired  by  an  animal  during  its  life  time 
are  inherited  by  otfspring.  The  a  priori 
method  would  examine  the  structures  of  the 
body,  the  germ  plasm  from  which  the  offspring 
develops,  and  the  relation  between  them,  and 
would  ask  just  how  a  specific  change  in  the  body 
could  affect  the  germ.  If  it  were  found  that  the 
tissues  that  are  to  continue  the  race  were  set 
off  so  completely  from  the  structures  of  the 
body  as  to  make  inconceivable  any  manner  by 
which  they  could  be  influenced  by  changes  in 
these  structures,  then  this  method  would  decide 
that  acquired  characteristics  are  not  trans¬ 
mitted. 

Let  us  take  another  example.  Both  the  sup¬ 
porters  and  opponents  of  woman  suffrage  have 
often  decided  the  question  without  consulting 
at  all  the  actual  results  achieved  in  the  States 
where  women  vote.  They  have  settled  the  ques¬ 
tion  to  their  own  satisfaction  merely  on  a  priori 
grounds.  They  have  considered  woman’s  sup¬ 
posed  mental  qualities  as  compared  with  man’s, 
and  have  decided  on  her  fitness  for  the  ballot 
solely  from  these  considerations.  It  must  be 


I 


22  THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE  | 

remembered,  however,  that  before  women  were  i 
admitted  to  suffrage  anywhere,  deductive  or  a  » 
priori  reasoning  was  the  only  kind  possible. 

It  is  often  helpful  to  look  at  a  problem  from  ; 
the  viewpoint  of  different  sciences.  A  problem 
in  pohtical  science  will  very  likely  have  an  eco¬ 
nomic  aspect,  whether  it  concerns  taxation, 
tariff,  trusts  or  the  ownership  of  land,  and  so 
we  may  look  at  the  question  solely  from  the 
vie^vpoint  of  economics.  But  the  problem  may 
also  have  an  ethical  aspect.  If  it  is  proposed 
to  pass  a  universal  prohibition  law,  you  may  , 
ask,  “Has  the  Goveniment  the  right  to  inter¬ 
fere  in  this  way  with  personal  liberty?” 
Again,  we  could  take  a  psychological  view: 
we  would  decide  from  our  knowledge  of  human 
nature  just  what  the  effect  of  an  alcohol  pro-  i 
hibition  law  would  be — whether  it  would  not 
drive  men  to  even  more  dangerous  drugs,  such 
as  morphine  and  opium. 

And  now  we  come  to  a  whole  host  of  effective 
methods,  all  of  which  may  be  classed  as  com-  j 
parative.  The  comparative  method  is  as  old  as 
thought  itself,  but  it  is  strange  that  even  sci¬ 
entists  did  not  begin  to  use  it  consciously  and 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


23 


consistently  until  almost  the  present  generation. 
Nowhere  is  it  better  illustrated  than  in  mod¬ 
ern  psychology.  Most  of  the  so-called  branches 
of  psychology  are  merely  different  forms  of 
the  comparative  method  of  treatment.  “Ab¬ 
normal  psychology”  is  merely  a  comparison  of 
abnormal  mental  types  with  normal  mental 
types  for  the  light  they  throw  on  each  other. 
“Child  study”  is  a  comparison  of  the  mind 
of  the  child  with  that  of  the  adult.  “Animal 
psychology”  is  a  comparison  of  the  actions  of 
animals  with  each  other  and  with  those  of  man. 
And  none  of  these  methods  is  of  any  value  ex¬ 
cept  in  so  far  as  it  makes  use  of  comparison. 

Often  consciously  used  in  the  consideration 
of  problems  is  the  so-called  historical  method. 
This  method,  as  its  name  implies,  consists  in 
obtaining  knowledge  of  a  thing  by  considering 
its  past  record.  The  word  history  is  popularly 
used  in  so  narrow  a  sense,  however,  being  re¬ 
stricted  only  to  the  history  of  nations,  and 
often  merely  to  the  political  history  of  nations, 
that  we  can  avoid  confusion  by  calling  this 
method  the  evolutionary.  In  the  final  analysis 
the  method  is'  comparative,  for  it  really  con- 


24 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


sists  in  comparing  a  thing  at  one  period  of  de¬ 
velopment  with  itself  at  another  period. 

Let  us  take  our  example  from  political  sci¬ 
ence.  The  historical  method,  in  its  popular 
sense,  has  been  so  much  used  here,  even  to  the 
exclusion  of  other  methods,  that  it  would  seem 
needless  to  speak  of  it.  But  often  the  method 
has  been  abused  and  often  it  has  not  been  given 
broad  enough  treatment.  It  traces  the  growth 
of  an  institution,  or  of  an  idea — personal 
liberty,  say, — through  successive  periods.  It 
notes  what  the  path  has  been,  and  judges  of  the 
probable  future  tendency.  But  a  far  broader 
outlook  than  we  get  from  this  narrowly  con¬ 
ceived  “historical”  method  is  furnished  by  evo¬ 
lutionary  sociology.  Here  we  inquire  into  the 
origin  of  society  and  of  the  various  trades,  in¬ 
dustries,  professions  and  pursuits  of  all  kinds, 
and  to  do  this  we  go  far  into  prehistoric  times. 

Nowhere  is  the  evolutionary  method  more 
strikingly  seen  than  in  biology.  Since  Dar¬ 
win’s  great  theory  was  promulgated  the  science 
has  gone  forward  by  leaps  and  bounds.  We 
have  derived  untold  benefit  from  a  comparison 
of  man  and  animals  in  the  light  of  this  hypoth- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


25 


esis ;  even  study  of  the  development  of  individ¬ 
ual  man  has  been  aided.  The  discovery  of  the 
fact  of  evolution  constituted  an  incalculable  ad¬ 
vance,  but  the  method  for  study  which  it  fur¬ 
nished  was  of  even  greater  importance. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  comparison  of  man  and 
animals  “in  the  light  of  this  (evolutionary) 
hypothesis.”  This  brings  us  to  a  point  which 
must  be  kept  in  mind  in  practically  all  observa¬ 
tion.  We  are  often  exhorted  to  “observe.” 
Presumably  we  are  to  do  this  ‘  ‘  on  general  prin¬ 
ciples.”  Such  advice  is  about  as  foolish  as 
asking  us  to  think  on  general  principles.  Imag¬ 
ine  for  the  moment  what  would  happen  if  you 
started  right  now  to  “observe”  as  much  as  you 
could.  You  might  begin  with  this  book  and  no¬ 
tice  the  size  of  the  type,  the  amount  of  mar¬ 
gin,  the  quality  of  the  paper,  the  dimensions  of 
the  page,  the  number  of  pages.  But  you  have 
by  no  means  exhausted  the  number  of  proper¬ 
ties  possessed  by  this  book.  You  must  observe 
that  it  is  also  combustible,  that  it  is  destructi¬ 
ble,  that  it  is  machine  made,  that  it  is  Amer¬ 
ican  printed,  that  it  is  such  and  such  a  price, 
that  it  weighs  so  many  ounces,  that  it  is  flat. 


26 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


that  it  is  rectangular,  that  its  thickness  is  so 
much.  ...  s 

The  absurdity  is  obvious.  If  we  started  out 
merely  to  observe,  with  no  definite  purpose  in  li 
mind,  we  could  keep  it  up  forever.  And  get  “ 
nowhere.  Nine  out  of  every  ten  observations  f 
would  never  be  put  to  use.  We  would  be  sin¬ 
fully  wasting  our  time.  To  observe  most  profit¬ 
ably,  just  as  to  think  most  profitably,  we  must 
have  a  definite  purpose.  This  purpose  must  be 
to  test  the  truth  of  a  supposition.  A  concrete 
example  will  make  this  clear. 

A  man  has  been  shipwrecked  on  an  island  and  i 
believes  himself  to  be  alone  there.  One  day, 
as  he  is  walking  along  the  beach,  he  discovers 
footprints.  How  did  they  get  there?  His 
first  assumption  is  that  they  are  his  own.  It 
occurs  to  him,  however,  that  he  had  not  been 
near  this  spot  for  over  a  week,  and  that  yester¬ 
day’s  storm  would  have  washed  any  footprints 
away.  This  objection  is  confirmed  by  making  a 
footprint  himself  and  comparing  it  with  the 
one  observed,  and  noticing  that  they  differ 
markedly.  The  footprints  being  those  of  some 
one  else,  how  did  the  man  who  made  them  get 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


27 


there?  The  first  supposition  is  that  he  came  in 
I  a  boat.  The  idea  of  a  small  boat  is  dismissed 
i:  because  of  the  assumed  great  distance  of  this 
'  island  from  other  land.  Therefore  the  man 
;  must  have  come  in  a  large  vessel.  But  the 
footprints  lead  to  a  wet  part  of  the  sand  and 
the  tide  is  just  going  down.  In  this  case  they 
iare  very  recent — made  not  more  than  a  half 
hour  ago.  This  being  so  the  man  who  made 
ithem  could  not  have  had  time  to  get  back  to 
any  ship  and  sail  out  of  sight.  If  he  came  in 
a  ship  it  should  be  still  in  view.  The  discov¬ 
erer  of  the  footprints  climbs  a  tree  from  which 
he  can  view  the  sea  around  the  entire  island. 
He  can  sight  no  vessel.  The  supposition  or 
hypothesis  that  the  unknown  came  in  a  ship  is 
abandoned.  Then  the  suggestion  comes  that  the 
unknown  has  been  on  the  island  during  the  en- 
1  tire  time  that  the  shipwrecked  man  thought  him¬ 
self  alone.  This  suggestion  is  tested  in  a  man- 
!  ner  similar  to  the  others.  .  .  . 

The  example  sums  up  roughly  the  general 
f,  process  of  all  thought,  and  brings  out  the  mo- 
1  tive  and  value  of  observation.  Let  us  analyze 
i  it. 


28 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


The  first  thing  to  happen  is  the  arousal  ol  ' 
a  feeling  of  perplexity,  the  appearance  of  a  ® 
problem.  The  man  has  been  shambling  along,  ® 
doubtless  “thinhing”  in  that  loose  sense  re- 
ferred  to.  He  has  perhaps  kicked  several  !'■ 
stones  loose  that  would  have  set  a  geologist  ® 
worrying,  and  has  picked  branches  from  bushes:  ’ 
which  would  have  puzzled  a  botanist.  But  this  ^ 
man  has  not  had  his  curiosity  aroused  until  he  I 
has  come  to  these  footprints.  His  thinking  * 
starts  with  his  perplexity.  After  this  doubt 
has  been  aroused  the  most  obvious  solution  sug¬ 
gests  itself — “my  own  footprints.”  But  if: 
true,  this  suggestion  involves  the  co-existence 
of  other  facts,  some  of  which  are  known  and 
some  of  which  may  be  determined.  Thus,  if 
they  were  his  own  footprints,  it  must,  among 
other  things,  necessarily  follow  (1)  that  he  had 
been  at  that  spot  before,  (2)  that  nothing  had 
happened  since  that  time  to  remove  the  prints, 
(3)  that  the  footprints  corresponded  to  his 
own.  The  first  consequence  involved — that  he 
had  been  there  before — was  a  fact,  but  the 
others  were  not,  and  so  the  suggestion  was 
dropped.  Then  a  second  hypothesis  occurred 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


29 


o' — “the  man  came  in  a  ship” — and  this  was 
:  1 1  tried  out  in  a  similar  way.  Notice  that  in  each 
ogjcase  the  consequences  dependent  on  the  truth 
re! of  the  suggestion  are  tried  out  (1)  by  memory, 
ra|(2)  by  observation  or  experiment.  Memory 
is; came  when  he  thought  of  the  last  time  he  had 
e  I  walked  near  the  beach  and  of  yesterday’s  storm, 
i ,  Observation  came  when  he  compared  his  foot- 
{ print  with  the  one  seen,  when  he  followed  the 
I  footprints  along  the  sand  and  noticed  where 
I  they  led,  when  he  climbed  a  tree  and  looked  for 
a  ship.  There  were  a  number  of  other  things 
which  he  could  have  observed.  He  might  have 
noticed  the  texture  of  the  sand,  what  kind  of  a 
tree  he  was  climbing,  what  sort  of  clouds  were 
in  the  sky.  But  he  did  not  observe  these  inter¬ 
esting  things  simply  because  they  would  throw 

(no  light  on  the  truth  or  falsity  of  his  supposi¬ 
tion.  In  another  problem  one  of  these  facts 
might  have  been  of  value. 

I  It  is  almost  possible  to  sum  up  the  whole 
process  of  thinking  as  the  occurrence  of  sugges- 
I  tions  for  the  solution  of  difficulties  and  the  test- 
j  ing  out  of  those  suggestions.  The  suggestions 

f  ,  , 

I  or  suppositions  are  tested  by  observation. 


30 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


memory,  experiment.  Supposition  and  obser¬ 
vation  alternate.  The  first  facts  observed — in 
the  case  foregoing,  the  footprints — ^make  the 
problem,  they  suggest  the  supposition.  A  sup¬ 
position  is  that  the  man  came  in  a  boat.  If 
the  man  came  in  a  boat  such  and  such  would 
be  the  case — the  boat  would  still  be  visible,  etc. 
If  the  boat  is  not  visible  the  supposition  is  given 
up  and  another  one  made ;  if  the  boat  is  visible 
the  supposition  is  confirmed.  This  is  a  case  of 
simple  and  rudimentary  thinking,  but  it  illus¬ 
trates  roughly  the  process  of  thought  on  even 
the  most  complicated  problems  of  science.  The 
methods  we  have  been  discussing  may  all  be 
considered  simply  as  means  for  helping  good 
suggestions  occur  to  us. 

Let  us  illustrate  by  considering  a  few 
methods  of  rather  restricted  application.  We 
are  often  aided  in  the  solution  of  a  problem  by 
asking  its  opposite.  If  we  ask  ourselves 
^‘YvTiat  constitutes  gracefulness?”  we  may  find 
ourselves  at  a  loss  for  suggestions,  because 
gracefulness  always  seems  ‘‘so  natural.”  But 
if  we  ask  its  opposite,  “What  constitutes  awk- 


lie 

lei 

s 

«f 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


31 


wardness?,”  suggestions  are  more  apt  to  oc¬ 
cur.  If  we  find,  for  instance,  that  awkward¬ 
ness  consists  in  undue  bodily  effort  in  making 
a  movement,  we  may  assume  that  gracefulness 
consists  in  ease  of  movement.  In  the  same  way 
the  question  of  what  makes  us  forget  may  be 
helped  by  asking  ourselves  what  makes  us  re¬ 
member,  and  light  may  be  thrown  on  the  causes 
of  success  in  business  and  in  life  by  a  study  of 
the  causes  of  failure. 

The  method  of  analogy  likewise  encourages 
suggestions.  Analogy  consists  in  noting  cer¬ 
tain  likenesses  between  things,  and  assuming 
that  they  also  possess  other  common  qualities. 
Striking  use  of  analogy  is  made  in  dealing  with 
the  planet  Mars.  At  each  pole  there  are 
great  white  patches.  The  size  of  these  varies 
markedly  with  the  seasons,  which  suggests  that 
like  the  earth.  Mars  has  great  areas  of  ice  and 
snow  at  its  two  poles  which  melt  and  re-form. 
The  general  surface  is  reddish,  but  three- 
eighths  of  it  is  covered  by  blue-green  tracts, 
and  these  are  usually  inferred  to  be  seas. 
These  again  are  connected  by  an  intricate  sys- 


32 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


tern  of  blue-green  lines,  which  some  scientists' 
believe  to  be  canals,  but  on  this  there  is  much' 

I  r 

controversy.  In  Mars  we  have  at  once  an  illus¬ 
tration  of  the  possibilities  and  dangers  of  '•1 
analogy.  ® 

In  the  whole  discussion  of  constructive'  * 
method  thus  far,  I  have  left  out  the  two  mostl  * 
conunon  and  useful  methods  of  all.  The  first  of  t  ® 
these  we  may  designate  by  a  somewhat  formid-  * 
able  title :  empirical  observation.  Empirical, .  ^ 
at  least  for  our  present  purposes,  means  merely 
that  which  comes  within  experience.  But  the  ■ 
term  is  generally  opposed  to  scientific.  Thus 
Dewey  gives  an  example:  “A  says,  ‘It  will 
probably  rain  to-morrow.’  B  asks,  ‘Why  do 
you  think  so  ?  ’  And  A  replies,  ‘  Because  the  sky 
was  lowering  at  sunset.’  When  B  asks,  ‘What  ' 
has  that  to  do  with  it?’  A  responds,  ‘I  do  not 
know,  but  it  generally  does  rain  after  such  a 
sunset.’  He  does  not  perceive  any  connection 
between  the  appearance  of  the  sky  and  the  com¬ 
ing  rain;  he  is  not  aware  of  any  continuity  in 
the  facts  themselves — any  law  or  principle,  as 
we  usually  say.  He  simply,  from  frequently 
recurring  conjunction  of  the  events,  has  asso- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


33 


dated  them  so  that  when  he  sees  one  he  thinks 
of  the  other.  ’  ’  ® 

This,  however,  is  not  what  I  mean  to  imply 
by  the  term  empirical  observation.  I  mean 
rather  thinking  on  the  basis  merely  of  facts 
which  occur  in  the  natural  course  of  events, 
which  have  not  been  systematically  produced  by 
ourselves  or  others  for  the  purpose  of  solving 
a  problem.  Logicians  usually  call  this  method 
simply  observation,  and  oppose  it  to  experi¬ 
ment.  But  I  object  to  calling  this  simply  ob¬ 
servation  because  experiment  itself  is  really  ob¬ 
servation,  only  in  one  case  we  observe  merely 
events  which  happen  to  occur,  and  in  the  other 
we  observe  the  results  of  events  which  we  have 
made  occur.  The  true  way  of  distinguishing 
these  two  methods  would  be  to  call  one  em¬ 
pirical  observation,  and  the  other  experimental 
observation. 

This  empirical  method — if  indeed  I  am  jus¬ 
tified  in  calling  it  a  method — is  the  most  com¬ 
mon  in  all  thinking.  To  give  examples  of  it 
would  be  to  show  how  men  generally  think. 
But  the  method  has  real  value,  and  may  even 


6  How  We  Think. 


34 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


be  the  most  important  of  all,  for  if  we  thought 
without  it  our  ideas  would  doubtless  be  orig¬ 
inal,  but  very  dangerous.  Let  us  apply  it  to 
some  of  the  problems  considered  under  other 
methods. 

Empirical  observation  is  used  where  experi¬ 
ment  is  impossible — often,  unfortunately,  where 
experiment  is  merely  inconvenient.  In  political 
science  the  empirical  method  would  consist  in 
noting  the  effect  of  certain  laws, — e.  g.,  tariffs 
of  different  countries  and  of  the  same  country 
at  different  periods — and  noting  economic  con¬ 
ditions  at  the  time  the  different  tariffs  were  in 
effect.  Allowance  would  be  made  for  other  fac¬ 
tors  which  could  influence  the  country’s  eco¬ 
nomic  condition  and  the  effect  of  the  tariff  could 
then  be  determined. 

The  empirical  method  of  dealing  with  mete¬ 
orology,  the  science  of  weather,  would  con¬ 
sist  in  making  a  study  of  cloud  formations, 
wind  velocity,  moisture  in  the  air,  temperature, 
etc.,  and  noting  what  conditions  usually  or  per¬ 
haps  invariably  followed  certain  of  these  condi¬ 
tions.  Prom  this,  conclusions  could  be  drawn 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


35 


as  to  what  weather  to  expect  following  certain 
conditions. 

But  valuable  as  empirical  observation  is,  and 
often  as  we  must  use  it,  it  should  never  be  em¬ 
ployed  when  we  can  experiment.  When  the  em¬ 
pirical  method  is  rightly  used  allowance  always 
has  to  be  made  for  certain  irrelevant  factors. 
But  “making  allowances”  is  always  sheer 
guess  work.  The  experimental  method  consists 
not  in  making  allowances  for  certain  factors, 
hut  in  eliminating  those  factors.  In  our  ex¬ 
ample  from  political  science  experiment  is  prac¬ 
tically  impossible,  because  the  factors  which 
may  influence  economic  conditions  are  innumer¬ 
able,  and  even  were  they  few,  no  country  could 
survive  the  dangers  of  being  experimented  upon 
— to  say  nothing  of  its  permitting  it.  Experi¬ 
ment  is  similarly  impossible  in  dealing  with 
weather  conditions  directly.  It  is  impossible  in 
astronomy. 

But  it  could  be  applied  quite  easily  to  most 
questions.  Suppose  you  wanted  to  determine 
beyond  question  which  of  two  methods  of  teach¬ 
ing  a  given  subject  was  the  better.  W^e  shall 


36 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


assume  for  the  moment  that  you  have  unlim-  | 
ited  time  and  money  to  experiment.  It  may  be  , 
thought  that  we  could  settle  this  simply  by 
teaching  one  person  according  to  one  method 
and  another  person  according  to  the  other,  and  ; 
that  we  could  determine  the  relative  merits  of 
each  method  from  the  progress  made  by  each 
pupil.  This,  however,  would  be  practically  of 
no  use  whatever.  One  pupil  might  be  naturally 
brighter  than  the  other,  and  so  would  naturally 
learn  quicker,  even  were  he  taught  by  an  in¬ 
ferior  method. 

To  make  the  experiment  of  any  use  we 
should  first  take  two  groups  of  pupils — the 
larger  the  better.  For  it  is  obvious  that  if  we 
take  a  great  number  of  pupils  and  place  them 
in  two  groups  the  ditferences  between  the  indi¬ 
viduals  will  tend  to  offset  one  another.  Let 
us  say  the  subject  is  one  in  which  the  progress 
can  be  quantitatively  measured,  say  typewrit¬ 
ing,  and  let  us  suppose  there  are  fifty  pupils 
in  each  group.  If  after  a  given  time  all  the  pu¬ 
pils  in  one  group  had  attained  a  greater  speed 
with  accuracy  than  all  the  pupils  in  the  other, 
the  test  would  be  almost  unquestionable.  This 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


37 


would  be  even  more  conclusive  if  the  groups 
were  reasonably  well  balanced.  For  if  all  of 
one  group  were  men  and  all  of  the  other  were 
boys,  the  men  might  make  more  rapid  progress 
than  the  boys  even  with  a  less  efficient  system. 
But  it  should  be  easy  to  divide  classes  and 
groups  so  as  to  have  a  reasonable  balance  of 
intelligence  between  them.  The  probable  re¬ 
sult  of  any  experiment  would  be  that  in  neither 
class  would  all  the  pupils  make  more  progress 
than  all  the  pupils  of  the  other,  though  you 
might  find  that  the  preponderating  majority  in 
one  class  improved  faster  than  those  in  the 
other,  and  this  would  probably  be  sufficient  to 
indicate  the  superiority  of  one  method,  even 
though  one  or  two  pupils  in  the  second  group 
progressed  faster  than  one  or  two  in  the  first. 

I  say  “probably”  because  there  are  still 
many  irrelevant  factors  which  might  influence 
the  result.  For  instance,  if  you  had  a  different 
teacher  for  each  group,  one  group  might  make 
greater  progress  not  because  of  the  method 
but  because  of  the  teacher.  This  means  either 
that  one  teacher  should  teach  both  groups,  or 
that  we  should  multiply  the  number  of  groups 


38 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


and  the  number  of  teachers,  and  have  half  the 
teachers  teaching  half  the  groups  by  one 
method,  and  the  other  half  teaching  by  the  other 
method.  Of  course  here  too  the  more  we  could 
multiply  the  number  the  better  it  would  be. 
Even  then  there  might  be  some  reasonable  ques¬ 
tion  as  to  the  validity  of  the  experiment,  for 
it  might  be  that  one  method  would  tend  to  en¬ 
courage  faster  progress  at  the  beginning,  but 
that  the  other  would  lead  to  greater  progress  in 
the  long  run.  This  could  be  determined  only 
by  carrying  our  experiment  over  a  long  period. 
And  we  might  still  have  irrelevant  factors,  for 
the  machines  on  which  one  group  learnt  to  type¬ 
write  might  be  superior  to  those  on  which  the 
other  group  learnt,  and  this  factor  would  have 
to  be  eliminated  in  a  similar  way  to  the  others. 

The  experimental  method  has  been  well 
summed  up  by  Thomson  and  Tait  in  their  Nat¬ 
ural  Philosophy : 

‘‘In  all  cases  when  a  particular  agent  or 
cause  is  to  be  studied,  experiments  should  be 
arranged  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  if  possible 
to  results  depending  on  it  alone ;  or,  if  this  can¬ 
not  be  done,  they  should  be  arranged  so  as  to 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


39 


increase  the  effects  due  to  the  cause  to  be  studied 
till  these  so  far  exceed  the  unavoidable  con¬ 
comitants,  that  the  latter  may  be  considered  as 
only  disturbing,  not  essentially  modifying  the 
effects  of  the  principal  agent.” 

In  all  experiments  one  must  exercise  ingenuity 
in  finding  other  causes  besides  the  one  to  be 
studied  which  may  possibly  influence  a  result, 
and  in  eliminating  these.  It  might  benefit  the 
reader  considerably  if  he  were  to  think  out  for 
himself  how  he  would  apply  experiment  in  its 
most  thoroughgoing  form  to  solve  a  given  ques¬ 
tion,  say  the  inheritance  of  acquired  character¬ 
istics. 

I  have  now  cited  enough  methods  to  at  least 
indicate  what  “thinking  with  method”  means. 
To  satisfy  a  certain  human  craving  all  of  these 
have  been  named,  though  sometimes  arbitrarily. 
Of  course  each  may  have  to  be  modified  to  some 
extent  to  adjust  it  to  different  problems.  I 
must  repeat:  there  are  methods  numberless, 
and  some  problems  will  require  methods  all 
their  owm 

But  what  is  important  is  that  every  problem 


40 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


should  be  dealt  with  by  as  many  methods  as  pos¬ 
sible.  Doubtless  you  have  used,  at  some  time 
or  other  in  the  course  of  your  thinking,  nearly 
every  one  of  the  methods  I  have  so  far  sug¬ 
gested.  But  the  point  is  not  that  you  have 
never  used  these  methods  at  all,  but  that  you 
have  not  used  them  often  enough*  You  were 
unaw^are  what  method  you  were  using.  Conse¬ 
quently  you  used  it  only  occasionally.  You 
used  it  only  when  you  stumbled  on  it  acci¬ 
dentally.  To  formulate  methods  is  to  bring 
them  to  your  attention,  so  that  you  may  use 
them  always,  thoroughly,  correctly,  consist¬ 
ently. 

We  have  treated  political  science  from  most 
angles.  We  have  applied  more  than  one 
method  to  several  other  problems.  To  still 
further  clarify,  exemplify  and  impress  this 
point,  I  shall  show  the  application  of  method  to 
one  more  subject. 

Suppose  you  wanted  to  invent  a  system  of 
shorthand,  and  wanted  to  make  it  as  perfect  as 
possible.  How  would  you  go  about  it? 

Your  first  step  should  be  to  restate  your  ques¬ 
tion  most  advantageously.  You  want  to  create 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


41 


•;j  certain  characters  or  symbols,  which  will  (1) 
■),  take  the  shortest  time  to  write,  (2)  will  be  easily 
:  recognized  by  yourself  or  others,  even  if  writ- 
I  ten  carelessly,  and  (3)  which  will  not  be  so 
numerous  or  so  complex  as  to  be  difficult  to 
learn.  You  may  decide  that  such  symbols 
would  have  even  further  requirements.  Next 
i  you  should  decide  on  the  methods  to  use  in  at¬ 
tacking  your  problem — this  in  order  not  to  for- 
I  get  any.  Now  assume  you  have  decided  on 
1  these  methods  and  that  the  first  is  the  a  priori. 

Your  conclusion  might  be  that  it  would  be  im- 
:  possible  to  have  a  different  symbol  for  every 
word,  and  that  it  is  necessary  to  have  some  sort 
of  alphabet.  Should  this  alphabet  be  based  on 
that  used  in  longhand?  That  is,  should  merely 
a  simpler  symbol  stand  in  place  of  each  letter? 
Or  should  a  different  symbol  represent  each 
sound?  Or  would  it  be  possible  to  have  a  dif¬ 
ferent  elementary  symbol  for  each  syllable? 
Having  decided  the  basis  for  your  symbols  or 
characters,  you  will  know  at  least  approxi¬ 
mately  the  number  required.  Your  problem 
will  then  become  that  of  making  the  characters 
as  simple  as  possible,  so  that  they  may  be  writ- 


42 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


ten  most  quickly;  and  yet  as  different  from  eacl  ^ 
other  as  possible  so  that  if  written  carelessly 
(as  they  will  be  when  written  swiftly),  they  may 
be  easily  recognized.  You  might  try  writing  ^ 
down  all  the  simplest  symbols  you  can  think  of. 
Or  you  might  ask  yourself  whether  there  is  any  ® 
fundamental  geometrical  figure  from  which  you 
can  derive  your  symbols.  Or  you  might  study 
the  simplest  and  easiest  movements  of  the  hand,?  “ 
and  base  your  characters  on  these. 

This  a  priori  method  is  most  apt  of  all  to  pro¬ 
voke  real  thinking.  It  should  therefore  be  taken 
up  before  any  of  the  others.  Not  only  is  it  best  I 
for  making  you  think  deeply,  but  it  will  be  more 
likely  than  any  of  the  others  to  make  you  think : 
originally.  However,  whether  attended  by 
great  or  little  success,  this  method  should  be 
followed  by  others. 

Not  the  least  fruitful  of  these  would  be  the  | 
evolutionary.  This,  of  course,  would  consist 
in  studying  the  history  of  shorthand,  finding  out  ' 
the  direction  in  which  it  has  been  tending,  and 
thus  anticipating  in  some  degree  its  future  de¬ 
velopment.  As  this  method  is  comparative  we 
would  naturally  be  led  from  it  to  comparing  the 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


43 


^.shorthand  systems  of  to-day,  and  assaying  the 
^good  and  bad  qualities  of  each.  These  could 
only  be  assayed  if  we  knew  something  of  short¬ 
hand  theory,  and  thus  our  experience  with  the 
deductive  or  a  priori  method  would  be  of 
iservice. 

'  Imphed  in  here  is  a  method  of  different  na¬ 
ture  than  any  we  have  yet  discussed,  but  one  of 
immense  help.  In  turning  from  the  deductive 
method  to  a  study  of  shorthand  systems  which 
others  have  developed,  you  have  an  opportunity 
to  compare  the  results  of  your  own  thinking 
with  those  obtained  by  others.  If  you  have 
failed  to  solve  the  question  in  as  good  a  manner 
as  these  others,  you  can  ask  yourself  wherein 
and  why  your  own  reflections  and  ingenuity  fell 
short.  If  you  follow  this  method  with  all  prob¬ 
lems — i.e.,  thinking  a  thing  out  for  yourself  be¬ 
fore  looking  up  what  others  have  thought — you 
will  soon  improve  your  thinking  surprisingly. 
The  method  is  capable  of  application  in  every 
problem,  from  inventing  an  adding  machine  to 
trying  to  find  how  the  plumber  got  that  $3.46 
on  the  bill. 

But  to  return  to  shorthand.  We  still  have 


44 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


the  empirical  and  experimental  methods.  Ii 
this  particular  case  the  difference  between  then' 

I 

would  be  simply  one  of  degree.  We  could  find 
for  instance,  what  systems  were  used  by  the 
fastest  shorthand  writers;  hut  we  could  gei 
nothing  conclusive  from  this,  for  we  would  have 
to  make  allowance  for  the  natural  abihty  and 
length  of  training  of  these  writers.  Fromi 
merely  looking  at  two  outlines  or  characters,  it 
is  often  difiicult  to  tell  which  can  be  written: 
faster.  This  could  only  be  tested  by  writing 
hundreds  in  a  row  and  finding  the  time  it  tooktf 
to  write  the  same  number  of  each.  Of  course 
such  experiment  is  capable  of  indefinite  expan¬ 
sion. 

In  deahng  with  method  heretofore,  I  have  at 
times  come  dangerously  near  to  making  a  false 
assumption.  I  have  been  talking  as  if  a  man 
who  took  up  political  science,  shorthand,  or  any 
other  subject,  were  dealing  with  only  one  prob¬ 
lem.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  is  dealing  with  a 
whole  series  of  problems.  Just  how  many  it  is 
difficult  to  say,  because  no  problem  worthy  of 
the  name  is  an  indivisible  unit,  and  may  always 
be  broken  into  smaller  problems.  The  whole 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


45 


science  of  aesthetics  is  included  in  the  simple 
question  “What  is  beauty?”,  the  science  of 
ethics  is  merely  the  answer  to  “What  is  right 
conduct?”,  and  metaphysics  may  be  reduced  to 
the  problem  ‘  ‘  What  is  reality  ?  ’  ’  But  when  we 
'.come  to  deal  with  any  of  these  we  instinctively 
break  them  up  into  smaller  and  more  concrete 
problems,  making  the  treatment  easier,  just  as  a 
general  attempts  to  split  his  enemy’s  forces,  so 
that  he  can  annihilate  one  section  at  a  time. 
Often,  indeed,  the  very  division  of  the  larger 
problem  into  smaller  problems  constitutes  its 
solution,  for  we  finally  come  to  a  problem  which 
practically  answers  itself,  and  wliich  we  recog¬ 
nize  as  being  included  in,  or  a  particular  form 
of,  some  more  general  problem  to  which  we  al¬ 
ready  know  the  answer. 

A  man  sets  before  himself  the  question, 
“What  is  the  proper  sphere  of  Government?” 
Perhaps  he  will  first  of  all  consider  certain  dif¬ 
ferent  specific  activities  which  might  possibly 
be  supposed  to  come  within  the  sphere  of  gov¬ 
ernmental  interference.  He  might  ask  himself, 
for  instance,  “Should  the  Government  interfere 
with  freedom  of  contract?”  Notice  that  he  has 


46 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


here  temporarily  made  his  problem  narrower, 
he  has  chosen  to  break  it  up  in  order  to  deali 
with  it  part  by  part.  But  even  when  he  came  i 
to  cope  with  this  smaller  problem  he  would 
probably  find  it  necessary  to  break  this  up,  and 
he  would  therefore  take  a  specific  example. 
Suppose  a  man  works  for  so  much  an  hour,  and 
that  nine  hours  ’  work  a  day  gives  him  the  mini 
mum  amount  on  which  he  can  live  and  support 
his  family.  Would  it  be  wise  to  limit  the  legal  ■ 
working  day  of  such  a  man  to  eight  hours? 
This  problem  practically  answers  itself,  and  so 
further  division  is  unnecessary.  Of  course  the 
answer  to  this  does  not  determine  the  answer 
to  the  original  question,  for  other  parts  still  re¬ 
main  to  be  considered. 

In  fact,  much  of  the  success  of  our  thinking 
will  depend  upon  just  how  we  divide  our  big 
problems  into  subsidiary  problems,  and  just 
what  our  subsidiary  or  subordinate  problems 
are.  This  will  depend  to  some  extent  on  our 
own  natural  sagacity,  and  to  some  extent  on 
mere  chance.  No  rigid  rules  can  be  laid  down. 
The  only  advice  which  can  be  otfered  is  that 
when  a  thinker  breaks  up  a  problem  he  should 


iiei 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


47 


do  so  with  an  eye  to  utility  and  definite¬ 
ness. 

John  Stuart  Mill,  in  an  essay  on  Jeremy 
Bentham,  pointed  out  that  the  secret  of  the  lat¬ 
ter’s  strength  and  originality  of  thought  lay  in 
his  method,  which  ‘  ‘  may  be  shortly  described  as 
the  method  of  detail ;  of  treating  wholes  by  sep¬ 
arating  them  into  their  parts,  abstractions  by 
resolving  them  into  things, — classes  and  gen¬ 
eralities  by  distinguishing  them  into  the  indi¬ 
viduals  of  which  they  are  made  up ;  and  break¬ 
ing  every  question  into  pieces  before  attempting 
to  solve  it.”  The  method  was  not  absolutely 
original  with  Bentham,  but  “whatever  original¬ 
ity  there  was  in  the  method,  in  the  subjects  he 
applied  it  to,  and  in  the  rigidity  with  which  he 
adhered  to  it,  there  was  the  greatest.” 

The  systematic  thinker  is  careful  of  the  man¬ 
ner  in  which  he  marshals  his  difficulties.  He 
knows  that  certain  problems  should  properly 
be  considered  before  certain  others,  and  he 
saves  himself  labor  and  sometimes  error  by 
considering  them  in  that  order.  Before  asking 
himself  how  Government  should  cure  a  given 
social  evil,  he  first  asks  whether  it  is  the  duty 


48 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


or  even  tlie  riglit  of  the  State  to  attend  to  that 
particular  evil  at  all.  In  other  words,  before 
asking  what  the  State  should  do  in  any  particu¬ 
lar  case,  he  considers  first  what  the  proper 
sphere  of  government  is.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  a  previous  question  often  cannot  be  dis¬ 
covered  until  one  has  actually  attempted  the 
solution  of  a  problem.  In  the  foregoing  in¬ 
stance,  it  would  be  difficult  to  determine  the 
proper  sphere  of  government  by  any  other 
method  than  a  consideration  of  particular  cases 
where  government  interference  suggests  itself. 

In  fact,  it  is  only  by  deep  reflection  on  a  sub¬ 
ject  that  we  come  to  realize  most  of  the  prob¬ 
lems  involved.  You  walk  along  the  road  with 
your  friend  the  botanist  and  he  stops  to  pick 
what  looks  to  you  to  be  a  common  wild  flower. 
“Hm,”  he  muses,  “I  wonder  how  that  got  in 
this  part  of  the  country?”  Now  that  is  no 
problem  to  you,  simply  because  you  do  not  hap¬ 
pen  to  know  why  that  particular  flower  should 
not  be  there — and  what  men  do  not  know  about 
they  take  for  granted.  Knowledge  furnishes 
problems,  and  the  discovery  of  problems  itself 
constitutes  an  intellectual  advance. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


49 


Whenever  you  are  thrashing  out  a  subject, 
write  down  every  problem,  difficulty  and  objec- 
^iii  tion  that  occurs  to  you.  When  you  get  what 
ei  you  consider  a  satisfactory  solution,  see 
iiii  whether  or  not  it  answers  all  of  them, 

I  have  stated  that  method  is  essential  to  good 
thinking.  I  have  given  mles  and  examples  of 
It  methodic  thinking.  But  I  do  not  want  to  create 
!  a  false  impression.  If  a  man  has  not  within 
t  him  the  materials  of  a  thinker,  no  amount  of 
}  method  can  make  him  one.  Half  the  thinking 
process,  as  pointed  out,  depends  on  the  occur¬ 
rence  of  suggestions.  The  occurrence  of  sug¬ 
gestions  depends  on  how  ideas  are  associated  in 
a  man^s  mind.  While  this  depends  to  some  ex¬ 
tent  on  the  education  and  the  whole  past  life  and 
environment  of  the  individual,  it  depends  far 
more  on  inborn  mental  qualities.  All  method 
can  do  is  to  awaken  the  most  fruitful  associa- 
1  tions  of  ideas  already  in  mind.  Hence  the  more 
methods  we  adopt — the  greater  the  number  of 
views  we  take  of  any  problem — the  more  solu¬ 
tions  will  suggest  themselves. 

There  is  one  further  reason  why  we  should 
take  as  many  different  viewpoints  as  possible. 


50 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


In  our  example  of  the  inheritance  of  acquired 
characteristics  in  animals,  if  we  had  been  sure 
that  the  results  of  our  deductive  reasoning  were 
correct,  it  would  have  been  a  sinful  waste  of 
time  to  experiment.  But  when  we  attack  a 
problem  by  several  methods  we  can  compare  the 
results  from  each.  If  these  results  agree  we 
have  good  evidence  that  our  solution  is  correct. 
But  if  we  have  adopted  quite  a  number  of  view¬ 
points,  and  have  not  let  the  results  of  one  in¬ 
fluence  those  of  the  next,  they  are  almost  certain 
to  be  at  variance.  This  means  that  we  have 
erred  in  applying  one  or  several  methods.  How 
are  we  to  find  which  of  the  methods  it  was,  and 
how  are  we  to  prevent  such  errors  ? 

This  is  the  subject  of  our  next  chapter. 


in 


A  FEW  CAUTIONS 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  only  positive 
and  constructive  thinking,  and  means  for 
obtaining  relevant  suggestions.  We  have  had 
almost  nothing  to  do  with  cautions,  means  for 
avoiding  fallacy  and  error,  and  means  for  test¬ 
ing  the  truth  and  value  of  suggestions.  Most 
writers  who  have  discussed  thinking  have  dwelt 
so  much  on  the  negative  aspect — so  much  on 
what  we  should  not  do — and  have  so  slighted  the 
question  of  what  we  should  do,  that  I  have  per¬ 
haps  been  led  to  adopt  this  order,  more  from  a 
feeling  of  revolt  than  because  it  is  logically  bet¬ 
ter.  But  I  believe  I  have  logic  on  my  side. 
Constructive  methods  make  thinking  “go”; 
cautions  steer  it  in  the  right  path.  An  automo¬ 
bile  without  a  steering  gear  is  almost  as  useless 
as  one  without  a  motor.  But  an  automobile 
can  go  without  being  steered,  whereas  it  cannot 
be  steered  unless  it  is  going. 

51 


52 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


But  while  with  automobiles  we  can  clearly 
divide  moving  from  steering,  we  cannot  do  this 
with  thinking.  The  two  processes  are  so  inex¬ 
tricably  bound  up,  that  we  cannot  engage  in  one 
without  engaging  in  the  other;  we  cannot  even 
speak  of  one  without  implying  the  other.  I 
have  divided  them  for  convenience  of  exposi¬ 
tion.  But  in  the  last  chapter  we  were  forced 
to  deal  slightly  with  cautions,  and  here  we  shall 
have  to  consider  constructive  methods  to  some 
extent.  1 

A  case  in  point  is  classification.  In  taking 
this  up  from  a  constructive  standpoint,  I  re-  | 
marked  that  all  classifications  ought  to  be  logi¬ 
cal.  But  I  did  not  say  what  I  meant  by  logical, 
nor  did  I  tell  how  a  logical  classification  could  j 
be  secured.  The  two  most  prominent  errors 
made  in  classifying  are  (1)  not  making  classifi¬ 
cations  mutually  exclusive,  (2)  not  making  them 
cover  all  the  objects  or  phenomena  supposed  to 
be  classified. 

The  first  error  is  the  less  common,  for  though 
occurring  among  all  thinkers,  it  is  compara¬ 
tively  infrequent  among  those  who  proceed  with 
caution.  It  is,  moreover,  more  easily  discov- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


53 


ered  than  the  second.  Consider  the  classifica¬ 
tion  of  constructive  methods  into  comparison, 
observation,  and  experiment.  It  is  apparent 
that  these  methods  overlap.  We  cannot  com¬ 
pare  without  observing,  much  of  our  observation 
involves  comparison,  when  we  experiment  we 
must  of  course  observe  the  results  obtained,  and 
the  results  are  usually  always  compared.  All 
three  methods  could  be  classed  under  observa¬ 
tion.  It  is  well  to  remember,  however,  that  the 
first  classification  may  be  useful — even  more  so 
than  one  strictly  logical,  and  that  the  nature  of 
a  subject  will  often  make  impracticable,  divis¬ 
ions  which  do  not  overlap  in  some  degree. 

The  second  error — that  of  not  making  a  classi¬ 
fication  cover  all  the  objects  or  phenomena 
it  is  supposed  to  cover — is  not  so  easy  to  detect. 
It  is  one  to  which  the  greatest  philosophers  have 
been  heir.  Some  of  our  Socialist  friends  say 
there  are  hut  two  kinds  of  people:  capitalists 
and  laborers,  ‘  ‘  the  people  who  live  on  others  and 
the  people  who  are  lived  on.”  They  overlook 
that  class  of  farmers  who  own  a  little  piece  of 
land  and  do  their  own  tilling.  Even  if  they  in¬ 
sist  that  such  a  class  “is  rapidly  becoming  ex- 


54 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


tinct,”  the  fact  remains  that  it  is  still  with  us  » 
and  must  be  taken  into  account.  li 

All  classifications  are  made  with  a  certain  f 
number  of  facts  in  nund,  and  fortunate  is  he 
who  happens  to  have  just  the  right  facts.  We 
cannot  hold  many  facts  in  mind  at  once,  and  we 
often  generalize  upon  thousands  of  things  by 
taking  a  supposedly  representative  dozen.  To 
avoid  error  all  we  can  do  is  to  keep  constantly 
on  the  lookout  for  examples,  especially  those 
which  apparently  will  not  fit  into  our  generaliza¬ 
tion.  If  they  go  in  without  straining  anything, 
our  classification  receives  added  warrant.  But 
sometimes  you  will  find  that  where  you  have 
three  classes  a  new  fact  will  necessitate  a  fourth, 
and  that  often  it  will  overturn  your  whole  beau-  ! 
tiful  structure. 

There  is  another  phase  of  thinking,  which 
while  chiefly  cautionary,  is  also  in  part  construc¬ 
tive.  We  have  so  often  been  warned  to  “avoid 
the  treachery  of  words”  and  to  “define  all  our 
terms  ’  ’  that  a  repetition  of  the  advice  seems  un¬ 
necessary.  But  we  cannot  overlook  the  excel¬ 
lent  counsel  of  Blaise  Pascal.  He  urges  that 
we  not  only  define  our  terms,  but  that  whenever 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


55 


we  use  them  we  mentally  substitute  the  defini- 
tion.  However,  this  needs  to  be  qualified.  If 
every  time  we  used  a  term  we  stopped  to  sub¬ 
stitute  its  definition,  our  thought  might  be 
exact  but  would  hardly  move  forward  very  rap¬ 
idly.  It  will  usually  be  sufiScient  simply  to  sub¬ 
stitute  the  definition  a  few  times,  for  after  doing 
this  we  shall  gradually  come  to  know  exactly 
what  we  mean  by  a  term,  and  further  substitu¬ 
tion  would  merely  waste  time.  Of  course,  all 
this  need  be  applied  only  to  terms  new,  technical 
or  equivocal ;  or  those  used  in  a  mooted  proposi¬ 
tion. 

I  have  spoken  of  analogy  as  a  constructive 
method.  This,  however,  should  be  used  only 
for  suggestion,  for  it  is  most  dangerous.  Often 
we  use  an  analogy  and  are  quite  unaware  of  it. 
Thus  many  social  and  political  thinkers  have 
called  society  an  ‘‘organism,”  and  have  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  deal  with  it  as  if  it  were  a  large  ani¬ 
mal.  They  have  thought  not  in  terms  of  the 
actual  phenomena  under  consideration,  but  in 
terms  of  the  analogy.  In  so  far  as  the  terms 
of  the  analogy  were  more  concrete  than  those 
of  the  nhenomena,  their  thinking  has  been  made 


56 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


easier.  But  no  analogy  will  ever  hold  good 
throughout,  and  consequently  these  thinkers 
have  often  fallen  into  error. 

The  quickest  way  to  detect  error  in  analogy 
is  to  carry  it  out  as  far  as  it  will  go — and  fur¬ 
ther.  Every  analogy  will  break  down  some¬ 
where.  Any  analogy  if  carried  out  far  enough 
becomes  absurd.  We  are  most  likely  to  ern 
when  we  carry  an  analogy  too  far,  but  not  to 
the  point  where  the  absurdity  is  apparent. 
Take  the  analogy  employed  in  our  first  chapter, 
comparing  thinliing  and  a  ship.  For  the  sake 


,{«1 


of  the  image  I  shall  make  this  a  motor-boat. 


We  might  carry  this  out  further.  We  might 
compare  the  effect  on  the  mind  of  books  and 
experience  to  the  fuel  used  for  the  engine.  The 
brain,  transforming  outward  experience  into 
thought,  might  be  paralleled  with  a  carburetor 
transforming  fuel  into  usable  form.  An  idea 
may  be  compared  to  a  spark.  All  this  is  very 
fascinating.  It  may  even  lead  to  suggestions 
of  real  value.  But  it  is  bound  soon  or  late  to 
develop  into  the  ludicrous.  The  analogy  in 
question,  however,  does  not  need  to  be  developed 
to  be  confuted.  For  unless  a  boat  has  a  pro- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


57 


peller  and  a  rudder,  its  engine  is  useless.  A 
mind  is  capable  of  attaining  truth  without  even 
being  aware  of  the  existence  of  a  science  of 
thinking  or  of  logic. 

Another  way  to  find  whether  an  analogy  is 
fallacious  is  to  see  whether  you  can  discover  a 
counter  analogy.  Surely  this  is  the  most  effec¬ 
tive  practice  in  refuting  analogy  in  argument. 
This  suggests  the  case  of  the  man  who  had  a 
ticket  from  New  York  to  Chicago,  and  tried  to 
use  it  from  Chicago  to  New  York.  The  railroad 
refused  to  accept  it,  whereupon  the  man  brought 
suit.  The  lawyer  for  the  defendant,  in  the  heat 
of  the  debate,  said,  “Why,  a  man  might  just  as 
well  pay  for  a  barrel  of  potatoes  and  then  de¬ 
mand  a  barrel  of  apples !  ’  ’  Whereupon  the  at¬ 
torney  for  the  plaintiff  replied,  “It  would  be 
rather  like  a  grocer  selling  a  man  a  barrel  of 
potatoes  and  then  trying  to  compel  him.  to  eat 
them  from  the  top  down,  refusing  to  allow  him  to 
turn  the  barrel  upside  down  and  begin  eating 
them  from  the  bottom  up.”  It  is  best  to  avoid 
analogy  except  for  purposes  of  suggestion,  or 
as  a  rhetorical  device  for  explaining  an  idea  al¬ 
ready  arrived  at  by  other  means. 


58 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


I  have  been  forced  to  defend  my  advice  t( 
take  as  many  viewpoints  as  possible,  by  point 
ing  out  that  the  conclusions  obtained  from  tbes( 
viewpoints  might  disagree ;  in  fact  would  be  al¬ 
most  sure  to  disagree.  Of  course,  this  disagTee- 
ment  might  be  avoided  if  we  allowed  the  com 
elusions  reached  by  one  method  or  viewpoint  toi 
influence  our  conclusions  in  another.  But  if  we 
do  this  we  give  our  problem  more  shallow  treat 
ment,  and  we  are  not  so  sure  of  a  result  when 
we  get  it.  When  a  miathematician  adds 
column  of  flgures  from  the  top  down,  he  confirms 
by  re-adding  from  the  bottom  up.  He  knows 
that  if  he  added  in  the  same  manner  the  seconc 
time  he  would  be  liable  to  fall  into  the  same  er 
rors.  And  in  thinking,  when  we  leave  one 
method  and  take  up  another,  we  should  try  to 
forget  entirely  the  first  conclusion  and  begin  on 
the  problem  as  if  we  had  never  taken  it  up  be¬ 
fore.  After  we  have  taken  up  all  the  applicable 
methods,  then,  and  then  only,  should  we  begin 
to  compare  conclusions. 

Time  forbids  doing  this  with  all  problems. 
Time  forbids  even  attacking  all  problems  from 


t 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


59 


different  points  of  view.  But  there  are  some 
problems  where  this  unquestionably  ought  to  be 
done.  The  problem  of  whether  or  not  charac¬ 
teristics  acquired  during  the  life  time  of  one 
individual  may  be  inherited  by  his  offspring,  if 
dealt  with  at  all,  is  too  important  to  be  left  to 
the  a  priori  method  alone.  This  problem  asks 
whether  the  children  of  educated  parents  will 
necessarily  be  innately  superior  to  the  children 
of  uneducated  parents ;  it  asks  whether  the  man 
of  today  is  superior  to  the  ancient  Greek,  el¬ 
even  the  present  day  savage ;  or,  assuming  that 
the  negro  race  is  inferior  to  the  white  race,  it 
asks  whether  generations  of  education  will 
bring  it  to  the  white  race  level  or  leave  it  un¬ 
changed  ;  it  asks  whether  the  hope  of  improving 
the  human  race  lies  in  education  or  eugenics. 
No  question  can  be  more  important  than  this  in 
its  practical  bearings.  The  answer  to  it  will 
profoundly  influence  our  opinions  in  education, 
psychology,  ethics,  economics,  political  science 
— even  philosophy  and  metaphysics.  The  an¬ 
swer  we  obtain  to  this  question  from  deductive 
reasoning,  no  matter  how  unanswerable  or  con- 


60 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


elusive  it  may  seem,  should  be  cheeked  up  by 
nothing  short  of  the  most  thoroughgoing  ex-i 
periment. 

Unfortunately  the  experiments  needed  for 
this  particular  question  cannot  be  carried  on  by! 
the  layman.  It  is  equally  to  be  regretted  thati 
scientists  have  been  none  too  thorough  in  carry-  ; 
ing  them  out  themselves.  But  we  should  re-j 
member  that  any  result  we  arrive  at  should  be  j 
subject  to  revision,  and  that  if  we  take  up  this 
problem  at  all,  we  should  at  least  make  it  ouri 
duty  to  read  about  and  criticise  all  the  experi¬ 
ments  that  come  to  our  notice. 

A  question  has  perhaps  just  occurred  to  the  ; 
reader.  If  the  deductive  method  is  to  be 
checked  up  by  experiment,  and  the  results  of 
the  experiment  are  always  to  be  taken,  why  not ' 
experiment  first,  and  omit  theory  altogether  ? 

Leaving  aside  the  fact  that  theory  is  the  best 
guide  for  experiment — that  were  it  not  for 
theory  and  the  problems  and  hypotheses  that 
come  out  of  it,  we  would  not  know  the  points  we 
wanted  to  verify,  and  hence  would  experiment 
aimlessly — a  more  serious  objection  is  that  ex¬ 
periment  is  seldom  if  ever  perfect,  for  it  nearly 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


61 


always  involves  some  unverified  assumption.  I 
have  referred  to  empirical  observation  and  ex¬ 
periment  as  two  ditferent  methods.  But  the 
difference  is  mainly,  if  not  solely,  one  of  degree. 
If  we  experimented  to  find  out  whether  ac¬ 
quired  characteristics  were  inherited,  it  is  ob¬ 
vious  that  our  experiments  would  have  to  be  con¬ 
fined  to  animals.  If  we  found,  let  us  say,  that 
no  acquired  characteristic  was  ever  transmitted 
to  offspring,  we  could  not  say  that  this  would 
be  equally  true  of  man,  but  would  be  justified  in 
concluding  only  that  the  acquired  characteris¬ 
tics  of  animals  are  not  transmitted  to  descend¬ 
ants.  Nay,  we  could  not  go  even  this  far.  We 
would  have  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  statement 
that  certain  acquired  characteristics  of  the  few 
score  animals  we  had  experimented  upon  were 
not  transmissible.  But  even  this  statement 
would  involve  assumption.  We  could  say  only 
that  certain  acquired  characteristics  of  the  few 
score  animals  we  had  experimented  upon  had 
not  been  transmitted  in  these  particular  in¬ 
stances.  We  would  have  to  limit  ourselves  to  a 
bare  statement  of  fact;  we  could  draw  no  con¬ 
clusion  whatever.  But  if  we  had  attacked  this 


62 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


problem  from  the  deductive  standpoint,  and  had 
concluded  that  owing  to  certain  conditions  hold¬ 
ing  alike  in  all  animals  and  in  man,  acquired 
characteristics  could  not  possibly  be  trans¬ 
mitted,  we  would  have  sufficient  ground  for  de¬ 
riving  from  our  experiments  a  broad  generaliza¬ 
tion. 

Experiment  and  deduction  are  not  the  only 
methods  which  can  be  checked  up  against  each 
other.  We  can  do  likewise  with  the  compara¬ 
tive  and  the  experimental,  the  historical  and  the 
theoretical — in  fact,  all  viewpoints  applicable 
to  any  one  problem. 

When  you  encounter  a  question  about  which 
there  is  a  controversy,  and  where  the  adherents 
of  both  sides  nearly  equal  each  other  in  number 
and  intellectual  status,  you  may  be  almost  cer¬ 
tain  that  each  side  has  caught  sight  of  some 
truth,  but  that  neither  has  seen  the  whole  truth ; 
and  you  should  endeavor  to  unite  both  sides  by 
a  broader  and  deeper  solution.  A  classic  philo¬ 
sophical  example  of  this  method  is  Herbert 
Spencer’s  attempt  to  reconcile  science  and  re- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


63 


ligion,  and  his  effort  to  unite  the  “intuitional” 
and  “experiential”  schools  of  thought.  The 
intuitionists  maintained  that  the  mind  had  from 
birth  intuitions  by  which  it  knew  certain  truths 
independently  of  experience.  Such  truths  as 
the  axiom  that  a  straight  hne  is  the  shortest  dis¬ 
tance  between  two  points,  or  that  it  is  morally 
wrong  to  do  certain  acts,  were  regarded  as 
among  these  intuitions.  The  “empiricists”  or 
“sensationalists,”  on  the  other  hand,  maintained 
that  all  our  knowledge — even  of  such  a  fact,  for 
instance,  as  that  two  and  two  are  four,  where 
we  cannot  conceive  otherwise — is  learned  solely 
from  the  individual’s  experience,  taken  in  its 
broadest  sense.  Herbert  Spencer  thought  he 
recognized  some  truth  in  both  these  doctrines, 
and  came  forward  with  the  theory  that  there 
are  certain  truths  which  are  intuitions  so  far  as 
the  individual  is  concerned,  but  that  these  in¬ 
tuitions  have  been  inherited  from  our  ancestors, 
were  originally  built  up  through  the  ages,  and 
represent  the  accumulated  experience  of  the 
race.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  Spencer’s 
success  in  this  case,  the  value  of  the  method  it- 


64 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


self  is  undoubted.  It  was  frequently  used  by  ^ 
Kant,  Hegel,  Fichte  and  other  German  philoso-  ** 
phers. 

I  have  remarked  that  it  is  almost  possible  to  ^ 
sum  up  the  entire  process  of  thinking  as  the  oc-  " 
currence  of  suggestions  for  the  solution  of  diffi- 
culties  and  the  testing  out  of  those  suggestions.  * 
The  constructive  methods  discussed  were  called  ^ 
means  for  making  good  suggestions  occur  to  us.  * 
From  this  standpoint  the  cautions  with  which  ' 
we  have  just  been  dealing  may  be  considered  as 
tests  of  suggestions. 

Let  us  refer  back  to  the  analysis  of  thinking 
given  in  the  case  of  the  man  who  discovered 
footprints  on  the  beach.  Even  there,  in  order, 
to  give  any  adequate  idea  of  his  thought  process, 

I  was  obliged  to  show  that  for  various  reasons 
he  rejected  certain  suggested  solutions.  Butl[ 
this  negative  method  could  be  more  fully  de¬ 
veloped.  Because  the  man  rejected  a  certain 
solution,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  was  neces¬ 
sarily  wrong.  Suppose  the  final  suggestion — 
that  the  unknown  had  been  on  the  island  all  the  < 
time — were  to  have  been  tested  out,  and  that  cer¬ 
tain  further  facts  were  discovered  which  tended  ! 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


65 


to  disprove  it;  the  man  might  find  it  necessary 
to  look  for  still  another  solution.  But  suppose 
this  were  not  forthcoming,  suppose  that  all  the 
possibilities  had  been  exhausted.  It  would  be 
necessary  to  return  to  some  of  the  original 
suggestions.  He  would  have  to  see  whether  an 
error  had  been  made  in  testing  them.  In  re¬ 
jecting  the  suggestion  of  a  small  boat  he  may 
have  overestimated  the  distance  of  this  island 
from  other  land.  He  may  have  underestimated 
the  difficulties  that  a  man  in  a  small  boat  is 
capable  of  surmounting.  In  rejecting  the  sup¬ 
position  of  a  ship,  he  may  have  erred  in  his 
judgment  of  the  time  the  footprints  had  been  on 
the  beach,  or  of  the  time  it  would  take  a  large 
vessel  to  get  out  of  sight. 

What  is  essential  is  that  all  suggestions  be 
tested  out,  either  by  memory,  observation  or 
experiment,  in  all  their  implications,  and  that 
the  tendency  be  resisted  to  accept  the  first  solu¬ 
tion  that  suggests  itself.  For  the  uncritical 
thinker  Avill  always  jump  at  the  first  suggestion, 
unless  an  objection  actually  forces  itself  into 
view.  Eemaining  in  a  state  of  doubt  is  un¬ 
pleasant.  The  longer  the  doubt  remains  the 


I 

I 

66  THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE  ’ 

more  unpleasant  it  becomes.  But  tbe  man  who 
is  willing  to  accept  this  unpleasantness,  the  j 
man  who  is  willing  carefully  to  observe,  or  ex-  i 
periment  if  need  be,  to  test  the  validity  of  his 
suggestions,  will  finally  arrive  at  a  solution  ; 
much  deeper,  and  one  which  will  give  him  far 
more  satisfaction,  than  the  superficial  answer 
obtained  by  the  man  of  careless  habits  of 
thought. 

Thomas  A,  Edison  says  he  always  rejects  an 
easy  solution  of  any  problem  and  looks  for 
something  difficult.  But  the  inventor  has  one 
great  advantage  over  any  other  kind  of  thinker. 
He  can  test  his  conclusion  in  a  tangible  way. 
If  his  device  works,  his  thinking  was  right;  if 
his  device  doesn’t  work,  his  thinking  was  wrong. 
But  the  philosopher,  the  scientist,  the  social  re¬ 
former,  has  no  such  satisfactory  test.  His 
only  satisfaction  is  the  feeling  that  his  results 
harmonize  with  all  his  experience.  The  more 
critical  he  has  been  in  arriving  at  those  results, 
the  more  deep  and  permanent  will  be  that  feel¬ 
ing,  the  more  valuable  will  be  his  thoughts  to 
himself  and  to  the  world.  .  .  . 

Even  in  the  first  chapter  I  intimated  that  logic 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


67 


would  constitute  a  part  of  the  science  of  think¬ 
ing.  I  intimated,  moreover,  that  it  would  con¬ 
stitute  almost  the  whole  of  what  may  be  called 
the  negative  side  of  thinking — those  rules  which 
serve  to  steer  thought  aright.  Though  cau¬ 
tionary,  the  advice  given  in  this  chapter  is  not 
usually  given  in  books  on  logic.  But  though  I 
cannot  overemphasize  the  importance  of  a 
knowledge  of  logic,  I  cannot  deal  with  it  here. 
The  science  can  receive  justice  only  in  a  book 
devoted  entirely  to  it. 

If  he  has  not  already  done  so  the  would-be 
thinker  should  study  a  work  on  logic,  for  unless 
the  present  book  is  supplemented  by  some 
treatise  on  that  science  it  cannot  be  regarded  as 
complete. 

In  order  not  to  confuse  the  reader  I  shall  rec¬ 
ommend  only  one  book.  In  order  to  encourage 
him  I  shall  recommend  a  small  book,  one  not 
so  deep  as  to  be  incomprehensible  or  repulsive 
to  the  beginner,  but  at  the  same  time  one  which 
is  recognized  as  a  standard  treatise: — ElemeUr 
tary  Lessons  in  Logic,  by  Stanley  Jevons. 


rv 


CONCENTRATION 


What  is  the  hardest  task  in  the  world?  To  think. 
— Emeeson. 

E  have  been  dealing  with  the  subject  of 


T  T  thinking.  We  have  considered  it  from 
both  a  positive  and  negative  side.  But  while 
we  have  devoted  our  attention  to  thinking,  we 
have  neglected  the  thinker.  In  more  scientific 
terms,  we  have  treated  thought  from  the  logical 
side;  we  are  now  to  treat  it  from  the  psycho¬ 
logical. 

Few  people  will  admit  specific  faults  in  them¬ 
selves  of  any  kind,  especially  if  these  happen 
to  be  intellectual.  But  almost  any  man  is  will¬ 
ing  to  confess  that  he  cannot  always  “concen¬ 
trate”  when  he  wants  to,  in  fact,  that  he  is  one 
of  the  countless  victims  of  “mind  wandering.” 

Most  of  us  imagine  we  know  just  what  we 
mean  by  both  these  terms.  But  if  we  are  to 

68 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


69 


judge  by  most  of  what  has  been  written,  no  two 
terms  are  more  misconceived.  Before  trying  to 
find  the  best  means  of  concentrating,  we  must 
first  find  just  what  we  mean  by  concentration. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  said  that  suggestions 
for  solutions  “occurred.”  I  did  not  say  how 
or  why.  To  discover  this  we  must  refer  to  the 
famous  psychological  principle  of  association. 

Any  train  of  thought  is  made  possible  by 
previous  connections  of  ideas  in  our  minds. 
While  a  girl  sits  at  her  window  a  parade  passes 
along  a  nearby  street.  The  band  is  playing,  and 
ere  the  tune  is  completed  the  band  has  gone  so 
far  that  the  music  is  no  longer  audible.  But 
the  tune  still  goes  along  in  her  mind,  and  she 
completes  it  herself.  It  suggests  a  dance  she 
had  been  to  where  it  was  played,  and  this  sug¬ 
gests  that  she  danced  the  two-step  to  it.  The 
two-step  suggests  the  more  modern  one-step, 
and  this  leads  her  to  compare  the  familiar  danc¬ 
ing  of  to-day  with  the  distant  and  respectful 
minuet. 

This  is  an  example  of  a  random  train  of  ideas. 
It  is  that  loose  “thinldng”  referred  to  in  our 
first  chapter.  But  even  this  is  made  possible 


70 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


only  by  the  connection  of  ideas  in  our  mind  at 
some  previous  period.  No  thought  can  enter  i 
our  minds  unless  it  is  associated  in  some  way  * 
with  the  previous  thought.  Psychologists  have  ' 
traditionally  classified  associations  into  four ; 
kinds :  association  by  succession,  by  contiguity, 
by  similarity  and  by  contrast.  The  example 
just  given  involves  all  four.  Association  by 
succession  means  that  when  two  ideas  or  im-  ' 
pressions  of  objects  have  entered  the  mind  in 
succession,  the  second  is  likely  to  be  suggested 
whenever  the  first  is  thought  of.  A  tune  con-  ' 
sists  in  a  succession  of  notes,  and  when  the  first  ? 
notes  are  brought  to  mind,  as  by  a  passing  ; 
band,  the  rest  will  follow — sometimes  in  spite  of 
ourselves.  Association  by  contiguity  means 
that  when  two  objects  or  ideas  have  been  in  con-  i 
sciousness  together,  one  is  always  likely  to  sug¬ 
gest  the  other  thereafter.  This  was  the  case 
with  the  music  and  the  dance,  or  the  music  and 
the  two-step.  Association  by  similarity  occurs 
when  two  ideas  resemble  each  other  in  some  par¬ 
ticular.  They  need  not  have  occurred  together 
at  any  past  time,  nor  after  each  other.  The 
fact  that  they  have  a  common  element  suffices  to 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


71 


bring  up  one  idea  when  the  other  is  in  mind: 
thus  the  two-step  suggested  the  one-step.  As¬ 
sociation  by  contrast  needs  no  explanation.  It 
is  exemplified  when  the  idea  of  present-day 
dancing  brings  up  the  idea  of  distant  danc¬ 
ing. 

Any  attempt  to  show  why  the  mind  acts  in 
this  way,  any  explanation  of  the  way  in  which 
the  different  kinds  of  association  are  made  pos¬ 
sible,  would  bring  us  into  physiological  psychol¬ 
ogy,  would  involve  a  study  of  the  brain  and  the 
nervous  system.  For  our  purposes  it  is  suffi¬ 
cient  to  keep  in  mind  that  such  associations  do 
take  place.  Without  them  no  idea  can  occur. 
Without  them  thought  is  impossible. 

The  bearing  of 'all  this  on  concentration  has 
yet  to  be  made  plain.  We  must  remember  that 
every  idea  has  more  than  one  associate ;  in  fact 
that  each  idea  generally  has  a  cluster  of  pos¬ 
sible  associates.  Instead  of  suggesting  the 
minuet,  the  one-step  may  have  made  the  fox  trot 
or  the  three-step  occur  to  the  young  lady.  It 
may  have  made  her  think  of  a  young  man  with 
whom  she  danced  it,  or  the  trouble  she  had  in 
learning  it.  Each  of  these  suggestions,  in  turn, 


72 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


would  also  have  potential  connections  with  a 
cluster  of  ideas.  When  we  are  thinking  at  ran-  ! 
dom — when  we  are  day  dreaming,  as  in  the  ex-  ' 
ample  given — the  strongest  association,  or  the 
first  to  he  aroused,  is  the  one  we  dwell  upon. 
But  when  we  are  thinking  with  a  purpose,  in  a 
word,  when  we  are  reasoning,  we  reject  all  as¬ 
sociations  which  have  no  bearing  on  our  pur¬ 
pose,  and  select  only  those  which  serve  it. 

Concentration  does  not,  as  popularly  sup-  ■ 
posed,  mean  keeping  the  mind  fastened  on  one 
object  or  idea  or  in  one  place.  It  consists  in 
having  a  problem  or  purpose  constantly  before 
one.  It  means  keeping  our  thought  moving 
toward  one  desired  end. 

Concentration  is  often  regarded  as  intense 
or  focused  attention.  But  the  fact  is  that  all 
attention  is  focused  attention.  Psychologists 
are  fairly  well  agreed  that  we  can  attend  to  only 
one  thing  at  a  time.  Mind  wandering,  and  so- 
called  distributed  attention,  is  really  attention 
directed  first  to  one  thing,  then  to  another,  then 
to  another ;  or  first  to  one  thing,  then  to  another, 
and  then  back  again  to  the  original  object,  rest¬ 
ing  but  a  few  moments  on  each  idea. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


73 


Concentration  may  best  be  defined  as  pro¬ 
longed  or  sustained  attention.  It  means  keep¬ 
ing  the  mind  on  one  subject  or  problem  for  a 
relatively  long  period,  or  at  least  continually 
reverting  to  some  problem  whenever  one’s 
thoughts  momentarily  leave  it. 

Having  decided  just  what  we  mean  by  con¬ 
centration,  our  next  step  is  to  inquire  whether 
concentration  is  worth  while.  The  reader  may 
smile  at  this  question  or  he  may  be  shocked, 
according  to  his  temperament.  But  if  most 
men  were  so  convinced  that  concentration  is 
such  an  unquestionable  virtue,  they  would  prac¬ 
tice  it  a  little  more.  At  least  they  would  make 
greater  efforts  to  practice  it  than  they  do  at 
present. 

The  truth  is  that  concentration,  per  se,  is  of 
little  value.  The  value  of  concentration  de¬ 
pends  almost  entirely  on  the  subject  concen¬ 
trated  on.  Almost  any  one  will  agree  that  even 
were  a  man  to  allow  his  mind  to  dwell  now  on 
one  important  problem  and  now  on  another, 
without  stopping  a  very  appreciable  time  at  any, 
he  might  nevertheless  be  improving  his  time  far 
more  than  a  man  who  concentrated  continually 


74 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


on  some  insignificant  and  inconsequential  ques¬ 
tion. 

But  of  course  this  is  not  really  an  argument 
against  concentration.  It  has  no  application 
when  you  concentrate  on  the  proper  subject. 
For  if  you  start  to  concentrate  on  some  question 
which  you  have  decided  is  really  important,  you 
should  keep  at  it,  allowing  no  deviation.  It 
may  be  that  during  the  course  of  your  thought 
associations  will  be  aroused  which  will  suggest 
or  bear  upon  important  problems,  problems 
more  important  perhaps  than  the  one  you  orig¬ 
inally  started  to  concentrate  on.  But  if  you 
immediately  abandoned  every  problem  you 
started  to  think  of,  whenever  you  came  across 
one  which  you  imagined  was  just  as  important, 
you  would  probably  never  really  solve  any  big 
question. 

Our  attention  is  guided  by  interest.  If  a  man 
merely  allows  his  thoughts  to  flow  at  random, 
thinking  only  of  those  things  which  spon¬ 
taneously  arouse  his  interest,  he  may  or  may 
not  attend  to  things  worth  thinking  about.  All 
will  depend  upon  the  path  in  which  his  natural 
interests  run.  But  the  point  is  that  if  the  sub- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


75 


ject  he  thinks  about  is  valuable,  it  will  be  so  only 
by  accident ;  whether  or  not  his  thinking  is  use- 
I  ful  will  depend  upon  mere  chance.  If  however 
I  he  consciously  chooses  a  subject — chooses  it  be¬ 
cause  he  believes  it  to  be  important — then  his 
I  thinking  will  be  worth  while. 

But  there  is  another  reason  why  concentra¬ 
tion  is  necessary.  Suppose  a  man  started  to 
I  put  up  a  barbed  wire  fence,  got  as  far  as  driv¬ 
ing  in  all  the  posts,  then  lost  interest  in  the 
:  fences  and  decided  to  grow  potatoes  in  his  field, 
plowed  up  the  ground,  lost  interest  in  the  field 
'  and  neglected  to  plant  the  seeds ;  decided  to 
paint  his  house,  got  the  porch  done,  lost  in- 
'  terest  .  .  .  That  man  might  work  as  hard  as 
:  any  other  man,  but  he  would  never  get  any- 
;  thing  done.  So  with  the  mind  wanderer  and 
the  concentrator.  The  mind  wanderer  thinks 
i  of  a  problem,  loses  interest,  and  abandons  it. 
i  The  concentrator  sticks  to  it  until  it  is  solved. 

Much  of  our  mind  wandering  is  due  to  the  fact 
I  that  we  are  not  fully  convinced  of  the  im¬ 
portance  of  the  problem  being  attacked,  or  that 
I  we  regard  other  problems  or  ideas  as  more  im- 
:  portant.  Concentration  consists  in  devoting 


76 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


one’s  mind  to  the  solution  of  one  problem.  Bnr-  , 
ing  our  train  of  thought  associations  bring  up  i 
new  ideas  or  suggest  problems  which  do  not  i 
bear  on  the  question  at  hand.  Now  when  we 
wander,  when  we  follow  up  these  irrelevant  ideas 
or  suggested  problems,  or  when  we  happen  to 
glance  at  something  or  hear  something  and  be¬ 
gin  to  think  of  that,  we  do  so  because  of  a  half¬ 
conscious  belief  that  the  new  idea,  problem  or 
fact  needs  attending  to,  is  important.  I  have 
already  pointed  out  that  if  this  new  idea  is  im¬ 
portant  it  will  be  so  only  by  accident.  If  we 
were  consciously  to  ask  ourselves  whether  any 
of  these  irrelevant  problems  were  as  important 
as  the  one  we  were  concentrating  on,  or  even 
important  at  all,  we  would  find,  nine  times  out 
of  ten,  that  they  were  not. 

Therefore  before  beginning  to  concentrate 
you  should  assure  yourself  that  the  problem  you 
are  about  to  attack  is  one  worth  solving,  or  at 
least  devoting  a  certain  time  to.  And  during 
that  time  you  should  think  only  of  that  problem, 
and  unhesitatingly  throw  out  all  irrelevant  sug¬ 
gestions  coming  either  from  your  course  of 
thought  or  from  external  sights  and  sounds. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


77 


One  qualification  is  necessary.  Sometimes 
an  irrelevant  suggestion  occurs  which  is  never¬ 
theless  really  important  and  worth  developing. 
As  this  might  be  forgotten,  and  as  it  might 
never  occur  again,  it  would  be  poor  counsel  in¬ 
deed  to  ask  that  it  be  thrown  aside  forever. 
The  best  move  in  such  a  case  would  be  to  make 
written  note  of  the  suggestion  or  problem,  so 
that  it  could  be  referred  to  at  some  future  time. 
Having  written  the  idea,  you  will  have  it  off 
your  mind,  and  wiU  be  able  to  continue  your  line 
of  thought  without  perturbation. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  a  great  aid  to  con¬ 
centration  is  writing  one’s  thoughts.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  this  certainly  helps  one  to  keep 
much  closer  to  a  subject.  Ordinarily  we  wan¬ 
der  without  being  aware  of  it,  and  bring  our 
minds  back  to  a  subject  only  after  sudden  inter¬ 
mittent  realizations  that  we  have  gone  astray. 
When  we  write  our  thoughts,  however,  we 
doubly  secure  ourselves  against  mind  wander¬ 
ing.  All  writing  requires  a  certain  effort,  and 
this  alone  is  sufficient  to  keep  most  of  us  from 
writing  irrelevant  thoughts,  or  anything  not 
directly  hearing  upon  the  subject  in  hand. 


78 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


AVlien  we  write,  too,  we  capture  our  thoughts  in 
tangible  symbols;  we  make  them  less  elusive  : 
than  in  their  original  foim.  Finally,  we  keep 
our  entire  past  train  of  thought  in  view.  Like 
an  oarsman,  who  cannot  look  ahead,  but  guides 
himself  by  the  objects  he  is  constantly  leaving 
further  behind,  we  keep  to  our  original  course 
of  thought  by  a  survey  of  the  ideas  already  writ¬ 
ten.  I 

In  spite  of  these  great  advantages,  writing  i 
has  certain  serious  handicaps  as  a  practical 
method  for  concentrating.  First  among  these  | 
is  its  slowness.  Thoughts  flash  through  ouri|i 
minds  much  faster  than  we  can  write  them.  ; 
We  either  lose  many  ideas  by  the  wayside,  or ;  j 
fail  to  go  as  far  in  our  subject  as  we  otherwise 
would.  Another  disadvantage  is  that  we  are  , 
forced  to  give  part  of  our  attention  to  the 
physical  act  of  writing,  and  thus  cannot  concen¬ 
trate  entirely  on  our  subject. 

There  are  two  methods  of  writing  compara¬ 
tively  free  of  at  least  one  of  these  handicaps. 
Both  shorthand  and  typewriting,  if  mastered  to 
any  degree,  are  much  faster  than  ordinary 
writing.  This  is  especially  true,  of  course,  of 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


79 


shortliand.  But  even  with  a  good  stenographer 
shorthand  has  serious  defects.  Unless  one  is 
quite  expert  it  requires  even  more  attention  than 
longhand,  and  at  that  is  often  unable  to  keep 
pace  with  thought.  Typewriting  requires  al¬ 
most  no  attention  from  a  touch  operator,  but  it 
too  is  open  to  the  charge  of  slowness,  coming 
in  this  respect  about  midway  between  short  and 
longhand. 

But  to  those  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  know 
either  shorthand  or  typewriting  the  necessity 
for  still  another  method  is  evident.  Indeed, 
even  those  acquainted  with  these  two  arts  can¬ 
not  always  use  them.  If  every  time  we  were 
to  think  we  had  to  have  with  us  a  typewriter, 
or  even  a  pencil  and  note-book,  we  would  not 
engage  in  any  too  much  reflection. 

Fortunately  there  is  one  method  superior  to 
any  yet  named,  which  requires  no  study  before 
its  application,  and  no  paraphernalia  during  it* 
It  consists  in  simply  talking  your  thoughts  as 
you  think  them.  One  who  has  not  tried  this  can 
have  no  idea  of  its  effect.  It  possesses  almost 
all  the  advantages  of  writing.  You  cannot 
wander  without  realizing  the  fact  immediately. 


80 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


It  makes  your  thinking  much  less  vague  than 
if  you  thought  silently,  increases  your  vocabu-  j 
lary,  always  keeps  pace  with  your  ideas,  and  re-  | 
quires  practically  no  attention.  ' 

It  may  be  objected  that  silent  thinking  itself  ! 
is  put  in  unspoken  words.  But  this  is  not  true. 
Part  of  silent  thinking  consists  of  unspoken 
words,  but  part  of  it  consists  of  images,  con¬ 
cepts  and  attitudes  which  pass  through  our  i 
minds  and  which  we  do  not  take  the  trouble  to 
name.  In  silent  thinking,  too,  there  are  also 
what  appear  to  be  occasional  dead  stops.  All 
these  processes  drift  into  each  other  indefinably 
and  are  unrecognizable.  When  we  talk  we 
realize  whether  our  images  or  concepts  are 
vague  or  definite  by  our  ability  to  name  them, 
and  we  realize  when  our  thought  comes  to  a 
“dead  stop”  by  the  fact  that  we  miss  the  sound 
of  our  own  voice. 

Another  practice  can  be  used  with  talking, 
The  degree  of  concentration  we  give  to  any  sub¬ 
ject  depends  upon  the  degree  of  natural  interest 
we  take  in  it.  Mind  wandering  comes  because 
we  are  also  interested  in  other  subjects.  No 
matter  how  shght  our  interest  in  a  thing,  we 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


81 


would  always  concentrate  on  it  if  we  were  in¬ 
terested  in  nothing  else.  To  secure  sustained 
attention,  then,  we  should  (1)  stimulate  or  in¬ 
crease  interest  in  problems  we  want  to  concen¬ 
trate  on,  (2)  decrease  or  remove  temporarily 
any  interest  in  the  things  we  do  not  want  to 
think  about.  Men  often  complain  that  noises 
distract  their  attention.  While  not  impossible, 
it  is  inconvenient  and  unpleasant  to  shut  off  our 
ears.  But  men  are  far  more  distracted  by 
sights  than  they  are  by  sounds.  And  they 
never  think  of  merely  shutting  their  eyes.  The 
next  time  you  attempt  to  concentrate — silently 
or  by  talking — try  shutting  your  eyes  and  see 
whether  or  not  you  are  helped. 

Talking  has  one  disadvantage — it  cannot  al¬ 
ways  be  used.  To  practice  it,  you  must  either 
lock  yourself  up  in  your  room,  or  sit  alone  in 
a  forest  or  field,  or  walk  along  unfrequented 
streets  and  by-ways.  You  can  by  no  means 
allow  any  one  to  hear  or  see  you  talking  to  your¬ 
self.  If  you  are  caught  doing  this  some  asinine 
idiot  is  sure  to  mistake  you  for  one. 

We  are  brought  back  again,  then,  to  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  occasionally  thinking  in  silence.  There 


82 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


is  one  other  reason  why  we  shall  sometimes 
need  to  do  this.  Thoughts  of  certain  kinds  are 
so  elusive  that  to  attempt  to  articulate  them 
is  to  scare  them  away,  as  a  fish  is  scared  by  the 
slightest  ripple.  When  these  thoughts  are  in 
embryo,  even  the  infinitesimal  attention  re¬ 
quired  for  talking  cannot  be  spared.  But  later, 
as  they  take  more  definite  and  coherent  form, 
they  can  and  should  be  put  into  words,  for  oth¬ 
erwise  they  will  he  incommunicable  and  useless. 

No  definite  rule  can  be  laid  down,  however,  as 
to  what  should  be  spoken  and  what  thought  of 
silently.  This  depends  to  a  large  extent  upon 
the  individual  thinker.  Some  will  probably 
find  that  talking  helps  them  in  almost  all  their 
thinking,  others  that  it  is  often  an  actual 
hindrance.  The  same  is  true  of  closing  one’s 
eyes.  If  you  do  not  know  which  is  better  for 
you,  find  out  by  experiment. 

At  those  times  when  you  suddenly  catch  your¬ 
self  wandering,  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  stop 
occasionally  and  trace  back  your  train  of 
thought  to  the  point  where  it  left  its  original 
direction.  In  this  way  you  would  get  some  val¬ 
uable  insight  into  the  how  and  why  of  mind 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


83 


wandering;  you  would  be  helped  in  recognizing 
its  appearance  sooner  the  next  time  it  occurred. 

A^Hienever  a  person  is  left  alone  for  a  short 
time,  with  no  one  to  talk  to  and  no  “reading 
matter”;  when  for  instance,  he  is  standing  at 
a  station  waiting  for  his  train,  or  sitting  at  a 
restaurant  table  waiting  for  his  order,  or  hang¬ 
ing  on  a  subway  strap  when  he  has  forgotten 
to  buy  a  newspaper,  his  ‘  ‘  thoughts  ’  ’  tend  to  run 
along  the  tracks  they  have  habitually  taken.  If 
a  young  man  usually  allows  a  popular  tune  to 
float  through  his  head,  that  will  be  most  likely 
to  happen;  if  he  usually  thinlis  of  that  young 
lady,  he  will  most  likely  think  of  her  then ;  if  he 
has  often  imagined  himself  as  some  great  po¬ 
litical  orator  making  a  speech  amid  the  plaudits 
of  the  multitude,  he  is  likely  to  see  a  mental  pic¬ 
ture  of  himself  swinging  his  arms,  waving  flags 
and  gulping  water. 

The  only  way  a  man  can  put  a  stop  to  such 
pleasant  but  uneducative  roamings,  is  to  snap 
off  his  train  of  day  dreaming  the  first  moment 
he  becomes  aware  of  it,  and  to  address  his  mind 
to  some  useful  serious  subject.  His  thoughts 
will  be  almost  sure  to  leak  away  again.  They 


84  THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 

may  do  this  as  often  as  fifteen  times  in  half  an  ' 
hour.  But  the  second  he  becomes  aware  of  it  ; 
he  should  dam  up  the  stream  and  send  his  ' 
thoughts  along  the  channel  he  has  laid  out  for 
them.  If  he  has  never  done  this  he  will  find 
the  effort  great.  But  if  he  merely  resolves  now 
that  the  next  time  his  mind  wanders  he  will  stop 
it  in  this  manner,  his  resolve  will  tend  to  make 
itself  felt.  If  he  succeeds  in  following  this 
practice  once  it  will  be  much  easier  a  second 
time.  Every  time  he  does  this  it  will  become 
increasingly  easy,  until  he  will  have  arrived  at 
the  point  where  his  control  over  his  thoughts 
will  be  almost  absolute.  Not  only  will  it  be  in-  j 
creasingly  easy  for  him  to  turn  his  mind  to  se-  j 
rious  subjects.  It  will  become  constantly  more  I 
pleasurable.  Frivolous  and  petty  trains  of 
thought  will  become  more  and  more  intolerable. 

This  whole  idea  of  forcing  our  thought  has 
been  questioned  by  no  less  a  thinker  than  Her¬ 
bert  Spencer.  Let  us  hear  what  he  has  to  say 
regarding  his  own  practice : 

“It  has  never  been  my  way  to  set  before  my- 
seK  a  problem  and  puzzle  out  an  answer.  The 
conclusions  at  which  I  have  from  time  to  time 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


85 


arrived,  have  not  been  arrived  at  as  solutions  of 
questions  raised;  but  have  been  arrived  at  un¬ 
awares — each  as  the  ultimate  outcome  of  a  body 
of  thoughts  which  slowly  grew  from  a  germ. 
Some  direct  observation,  or  some  fact  met  with 
in  reading,  would  dwell  with  me:  apparently 
because  I  had  a  sense  of  its  significance.  It  was 
not  that  there  arose  a  distinct  consciousness  of 
its  general  meaning;  but  rather  that  there  was 
a  kind  of  instinctive  interest  in  those  facts 
which  have  general  meanings.  For  example, 
the  detailed  structure  of  this  or  that  species  of 
mammal,  though  I  might  willingly  read  about  it, 
would  leave  little  impression;  but  when  I  met 
with  the  statement  that,  almost  without  excep¬ 
tion,  mammals,  even  as  unlike  as  the  whale  and 
the  giraffe,  have  seven  cervical  vertebrae,  this 
would  strike  me  and  be  remembered  as  sugges¬ 
tive.  Apt  as  I  thus  was  to  lay  hold  of  cardinal 
truths,  it  would  happen  occasionally  that  one, 
most  likely  brought  to  mind  by  an  illustration, 
and  gaining  from  the  illustration  fresh  distinc¬ 
tiveness,  would  be  contemplated  by  me  for  a 
while,  and  its  bearings  observed.  A  week  after¬ 
wards,  possibly,  the  matter  would  be  remem- 


86 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


bered;  and  ■with  further  thought  about  it,  mighi] 
occur  a  recognition  of  some  -wider  application] 
than  I  had  before  perceived:  ne-w  instances  be-j 
ing  aggregated  with  those  already  noted.  I 
Again  after  an  interval,  perhaps  of  a  month,- 
perhaps  of  half  a  year,  something  would  remindl 
me  of  that  which  I  had  before  remarked;  andi] 
mentally  running  over  the  facts  might  be  fol¬ 
lowed  by  some  further  extension  of  the  idea. 
When  accumulation  of  instances  had  given  body 
to  a  generalization,  reflexion  would  reduce  the 
vague  conception  at  first  framed  to  a  more 
definite  conception;  and  perhaps  difficulties  or 
anomalies  passed  over  for  a  while,  but  even¬ 
tually  forcing  themselves  on  attention,  might 
cause  a  needful  qualification  and  a  truer  shap¬ 
ing  of  the  thought.  Eventually  the  gro-wing 
generalization,  thus  far  inductive,  might  take 
a  deductive  form:  being  all  at  once  recognized 
as  a  necessary  consequence  of  some  physical 
principle — some  estabhshed  law.  And  thus,  lit¬ 
tle  by  little,  in  unobtrusive  ways,  without 
conscious  intention  or  appreciable  effort,  there 
would  grow  up  a  coherent  and  organized  theory. 
Habitually  the  process  was  one  of  slow  unforced 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


87 


development,  often  extending  over  years;  and 
the  thinMng  done  went  on  in  this  gradual,  al¬ 
most  spontaneous  way,  without  strain.  .  .  .  ”  ^ 

But  compare  this  method  with  that  of  John 
Stuart  Mill ;  who  speaks  of  ‘  ‘  the  mental  habit  to 
which  I  attribute  all  that  I  have  ever  done,  or 
ever  shall  do,  in  speculation;  that  of  never 
abandoning  a  puzzle,  but  again  and  again  re¬ 
turning  to  it  until  it  was  cleared  up;  never  al¬ 
lowing  obscure  corners  of  a  subject  to  remain 
unexplored  because  they  did  not  appear  im¬ 
portant;  never  thinking  that  I  perfectly  under¬ 
stood  any  part  of  a  subject  until  I  understood 
the  whole.”  ^  Mill’s  method  was,  in  short, 
“that  of  conscious  and  vehement  effort  directed 
towards  the  end  he  had  in  view.  He  solved  his 
problems  by  laborious  application  and  study.”  ® 

William  Minto  writes  of  Adam  Smith:  “His 
intellectual  proceedings  were  cahn,  patient,  and 
regular:  he  mastered  a  subject  slowly  and  cir¬ 
cumspectly,  and  carried  his  principles  with 
steady  tenacity  through  multitudes  of  details 

1  Autobiography,  Vol.  I,  p.  463. 

2  Autobiography. 

*  Hugh  Elliot,  The  Letters  of  John  Stuart  Mill. 


88 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


that  would  have  checked  many  men  of  greater 
mental  vigor  unendowed  with  the  same  invin-j 
cihle  persistence.”  \ 

With  such  thinkers  differing  so  markedly  in; 
their  methods,  the  ordinary  man  is  left  bewil-, 
dered.  He  may  indeed  decide  that  effort  or  no 
effort  makes  little  difference.  Let  us,  however, 
look  to  the  psychology  of  the  question,  and  see 
whether  we  can  find  any  guiding  principle. 

Spencer,  defending  his  method,  says:  “A 
solution  reached  in  the  way  described,  is  more 
likely  to  be  true  than  one  reached  in  pursuance 
of  a  determined  effort  to  find  a  solution.  The 
determined  effort  causes  perversion  of  thought. . 
Wlien  endeavoring  to  recollect  some  name  or  i 
thing  which  has  been  forgotten,  it  frequently  < 
happens  that  the  name  or  thing  sought  will  not 
arise  in  consciousness ;  but  when  attention  is  re-  ■ 
laxed,  the  missing  name  or  thing  often  suggests 
itself.  While  thought  continues  to  be  forced  1 
down  certain  wrong  turnings  which  had  origin¬ 
ally  been  taken,  the  search  is  vain ;  but  with  the 
cessation  of  strain  the  true  association  of  ideas 
has  an  opportunity  of  asserting  itself.  And, 
similarly,  it  may  be  that  while  an  effort  to  ar- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


89 


f  rive  forthwith  at  some  answer  to  a  problem, 
acts  as  a  distorting  factor  in  consciousness  and 
causes  error,  a  quiet  contemplation  of  the  prob¬ 
lem  from  time  to  time,  allows  those  proclivities 
of  thought  which  have  probably  been  caused  un¬ 
awares  by  experiences,  to  make  themselves  felt, 
and  to  guide  the  mind  to  the  right  conclusion.” 

Spencer’s  first  argument,  that  an  effort  to 
recollect  something  is  often  without  results, 
while  the  thing  is  remembered  later  when  we 
are  not  trying  to  think  of  it,  is  true  as  to  fact. 
But  it  does  not  show  that  the  effort  was  un¬ 
fruitful.  As  pointed  out  in  the  discussion  of 
association,  one  idea  is  associated  with  not  only 
one  other  idea  but  with  an  entire  group.  This 
may  give  a  possible  explanation  of  why  it  is  so 
often  difficult  to  recollect  anything  when  we 
make  a  determined  effort.  The  attempt  partly 
arouses  a  whole  cluster  of  ideas,  each  of  which 
tends  to  return,  but  is  prevented  from  doing  so 
by  all  the  others.  It  is  analogous  to  a  crowd  of 
people  all  struggling  to  get  through  a  narrow 
doorway.  They  cause  such  a  jam  that  for  a 
time  no  one  succeeds.  When  the  pushing  and 
jostling  cease  one  person  at  a  time  is  able  to 


90 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


pass  through.  When  effort  is  abandoned,  prob 
ably  all  but  one  of  the  associates  become  dor 
mant,  and  this  one  slides  into  consciousness  ai 
the  slightest  provocation, 

Wliether  or  not  this  explanation  is  true,  it  is 
a  fact  that  though  an  effort  may  not  produce  re¬ 
sults  at  the  time,  still  if  it  had  not  been  made, 
the  associate  which  finally  comes  to  mind  would 
probably  never  have  occurred  at  all.  The 
reader  has  possibly  found  that  when  learning 
some  skilled  movement,  such  as  bicycle  riding, 
skating  or  swimming,  his  first  attempts  seemed 
without  result,  but  after  an  interval  of  a  week  or 
a  month,  when  trying  again,  he  suddenly  dis¬ 
covered  that  he  could  do  what  he  wanted  from 
the  very  start.  Surely  no  one  would  contend 
that  this  could  happen  without  the  previous  ef¬ 
fort  1 

I  must  also  question  Spencer’s  remark  that 
“with  the  cessation  of  strain  the  true  associa¬ 
tion  of  ideas  has  an  opportunity  of  asserting  it¬ 
self.”  The  brain  has  no  hidden  mechanism  by 
which  it  can  separate  the  true  from  the  false. 
To  be  sure,  if  we  use  no  effort  the  most  usual 
and  strongest  associations  will  be  more  likely 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


91 


Hto  assert  themselves,  and  it  may  be  that  often 
f-f  these  will  have  more  warrant  than  unusual  and 
it  weaker  associations.  Outside  of  this,  there  is 
no  superiority. 

But  the  main  reason  why  we  cannot  follow  the 
'  method  of  Herbert  Spencer  is  that  we  are  not 
’,1  all  Herbert  Spencers.  His  thought  naturally 
tended  to  serious  and  useful  channels.  Conse¬ 
quently  he  did  not  have  to  force  it  there.  If  the 
I  reader  is  one  of  those  rare  and  fortunate  be¬ 
ings  whose  thoughts  run  only  to  useful  subjects, 

1  and  who  always  concentrate  from  pure  spon¬ 
taneous  interest,  I  sincerely  advise  him  not  to 
force  himself.  And  if  such  a  being  happens  to 
i  be  reading  the  present  chapter  I  assure  him  he 
!  is  criminally  wasting  his  time,  and  that  he 
should  drop  the  book  or  turn  to  the  next  chapter 
with  all  possible  haste.  But  if  the  reader  num¬ 
bers  himself  with  the  miserable  majority  whose 
:  minds  are  ever  running  away  with  them,  he  will 
find  it  necessary  to  use  effort  in  thinking — at 
least  for  a  while. 

One  remark  of  Spencer  is  undoubtedly  true. 
This  is  '‘that  an  effort  to  arrive  forthwith  at 
some  answer  to  a  problem,  acts  as  a  distorting 


92 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


factor  in  consciousness  and  causes  error.”! 
And  here,  strange  to  say,  his  practice  is  in  sub-| 
stantial  agreement  with  the  apparently  opposite! 
method  of  John  Stuart  Mill.  For  note  that  Mill  ' 
speaks  of  “again  and  again  returning  to  it 
[a  puzzle]  until  it  was  cleared  up.” 

Both  imply  their  agreement  rather  than  state  i 
it  outright;  Spencer  by  his  use  of  the  word 
“forthwith”  and  Mill  by  his  words  “again  and' 
again.  ’  ’  Here  the  practice  of  both  differs  from 
that  of  the  vast  majority  of  men.  Yet  neither  i 
thinker  seemed  to  be  clearly  conscious  how  it 
differed.  The  average  man  (that  mythical  I 
creature!)  when  he  has  just  been  confronted  1 
with  a  problem,  may  wrestle  with  it  with  all  the  I 
vigor  of  a  great  thinker.  But  as  he  sees  diffi¬ 
culties  multiplying  about  him,  he  gradually  be¬ 
comes  more  and  more  discouraged.  Finally  he 
throws  up  the  problem  in  disgust,  contenting 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  it  cannot  1^ 
solved,  or  that  it  will  take  somebody  who  knows 
more  than  he  to  solve  it.  * 

A  real  thinker,  however,  if  confronted  with 
the  same  problem,  will  look  for  a  solution  from 
every  possible  viewpoint.  But  failing  an  an: 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


93 


"  swer  he  will  not  give  up.  Instead  he  will  let 
>  the  subject  drop  for  a  while,  say  a  couple  of 
weeks  or  perhaps  longer,  and  then  refer  to  it 
II:  again.  This  time  he  will  find  that  certain  ob- 
(  scurities  have  become  a  little  clearer;  that  cer¬ 
tain  questions  have  been  answered.  He  will 
1  again  attack  his  puzzle  with  energy.  And  if  he 
does  not  obtain  a  complete  solution  he  will  once 
more  put  it  aside,  returning  to  it  after  another 
interval,  until  finally  a  satisfactory  solution 
presents  itself. 

You  may  fail  to  see  any  difference  between 
thinking  for  two  hours  separated  by  two  weeks, 
and  thinking  for  two  consecutive  hours.  As  an 
experiment,  then,  the  next  time  you  come  across 
a  puzzle  which  you  fail  to  solve  at  first  tilt,  write 
down  all  the  unsatisfactory  solutions  suggested, 
and  all  the  questions,  difficulties  and  objections 
met  with.  You  may  leave  this  for  a  few  weeks. 

I  When  you  return  to  it  a  few  of  the  difficulties 
will  look  less  formidable,  and  some  of  the  ques- 
tiohs  will  have  practically  answered  themselves. 
(Of  course  some  of  the  difficulties  may  look 
more  formidable,  and  a  few  new  questions  may 
have  arisen.)  If  a  solution  is  not  found  at  the 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


94  , 

second  attempt,  the  problem  may  again  be  sent 
to  your  mental  waiting  room.  But  if  it  is  only 
of  reasonable  difficulty  a  solution  is  bound,  soon  i 
or  late,  to  be  discovered. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  just  what  effects  this 
change  in  thought,  when  apparently  one  has  en¬ 
gaged  in  no  reflection  during  the  interval. 
The  attempted  solution  probably  gives  a  certain 
“set”  to  our  minds.  Without  being  aware  of  I 
it  we  observe  facts  relating  to  our  problem. 
Ideas  which  occur  to  us  in  other  connections  I 
are  unconsciously  seen  in  their  bearing  on  the  i 
unsolved  question.  In  short,  “those  proclivi¬ 
ties  of  thought  which  have  probably  been 
caused  unawares  by  experience”  make  them¬ 
selves  felt. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  if  we  think  too  much 
we  will  be  liable  permanently  to  injure  our  ' 
mighty  intellects.  This  has  sometimes  hap¬ 
pened,  But  there  is  no  serious  danger  of  it. 
Thinking  on  one  useful  subject  for  a  long  while 
wiU  not  hurt  you  any  more  than  thinking  on  a  : 
thousand  different  useless  subjects  for  the  same 
period.  But  of  course  you  should  not  try  to 
concentrate  when  you  are  sleepy,  when  you 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


95 


J  have  a  headache,  when  some  other  bodily  pain 
V  distracts  your  attention,  or  when  your  mind  is 
j  I  in  any  way  tired.  If  you  attempt  to  concen- 
I  trate  at  these  times  you  will  endanger  your  men- 
I  tal  and  physical  health.  Not  only  this,  but  the 
thinking  done  during  such  periods  will  be  of 
I  such  poor  quality  that  it  will  be  practically  use- 
;  less  if  not  harmful.  This  applies  even  to  cases 

i  where  mental  fatigue  is  almost  inappreciable. 
I  Thinking  done  in  the  evening  seldom  approaches 

ii  in  efficacy  the  thinking  done  in  the  first  hours  of 
the  morning.  But  you  should  always  make  sure 

'  your  mind  is  actually  tired.  It  may  merely  be 
tired  of  a  particular  subject. 

‘  An  objection  of  a  different  kind  may  be  raised 
against  concentrating  at  every  opportunity.  It 
has  often  been  noticed  that  names  have  been 
recalled  and  problems  solved  when  we  were 
thinking  of  something  else.  It  may  be  urged 
that  such  solutions  would  not  have  occurred 
when  concentrating,  because  the  exact  associa¬ 
tions  which  led  up  to  them  would  not  have  been 
present.  This  is  occasionally  true.  But  there 
are  still  reasons  why  I  must  maintain  my  posi¬ 
tion.  No  matter  how  well  a  man  may  have 


96 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


trained  himself  to  concentrate,  there  will  always 
be  short  periods  when  his  mind  will  wander, 
and  these  will  suffice  for  any  accidental  associa-; 
tions.  Moreover,  the  fact  that  these  mind  wan¬ 
dering  periods  occasionally  do  good  does  not 
excuse  their  existence.  The  most  fallacious 
ideas,  the  most  demoniacal  practices,  the  most 
despicable  characters  of  history,  have  occasion¬ 
ally  done  good.  The  fact  is  that  for  every  use¬ 
ful  association  which  occurs  during  mind  wan¬ 
dering,  ten  associations  just  as  useful  will  occur 
during  concentration.  The  only  reason  useful 
mind  wandering  associations  appear  frequent  is 
that  they  are  unexpected,  therefore  more  no¬ 
ticed  wffien  they  come. 

It  has  been  frequently  said  that  many  of  the 
world’s  greatest  inventions  were  due  to  acci¬ 
dent.  In  a  sense  this  is  true.  But  the  accident 
was  prepared  for  by  previous  hard  thinking. 
It  would  never  have  occurred  had  not  this 
thinking  taken  place.  It  is  said  that  the  idea  of 
gravitation  came  to  Newton  because  an  apple 
fell  on  his  head.  Perhaps.  But  apples  had 
been  falling  ever  since  there  were  apple  trees, 
and  had  probably  been  falling  on  men’s  heads 


(vei 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


97 


■  ever  since  men  liad  acquired  the  habit  of  getting 
their  heads  in  the  way.  The  idea  of  the  steam 
engine  is  supposed  to  have  come  to  Watt  while 
observing  a  tea  kettle.  But  how  many  thou¬ 
sands  before  him  had  not  seen  steam  coming 
out  of  kettles'?  The  idea  of  the  pendulum  for 
regulating  time  occurred  to  Galileo  from  observ¬ 
ing  a  swinging  lantern  in  a  cathedral.  Think 
how  many  others  must  have  seen  that  lantern 
swinging!  It  is  probable  that  in  all  these  cases 
the  invention  or  idea  had  been  prepared  for,  had 
been  all  but  formed,  by  downright  hard  think¬ 
ing  in  previous  periods  of  concentration.  All 
that  was  needed  was  the  slightest  unusual  oc¬ 
currence  to  make  the  idea  complete  and  con¬ 
scious.  The  unusual  occurrence,  the  accident, 
which  has  so  often  received  the  credit  for  the 
invention  or  the  idea,  merely  made  it  come 
sooner,  for  with  the  thinking  these  men  did,  it 
was  bound  to  come  eventually.  .  .  . 

Of  course  I  really  do  not  seriously  expect  any¬ 
body  to  concentrate  at  every  opportunity.  I 
don’t  myself.  I  merely  wanted  to  establish  the 
fact  that  it’s  the  best  thing.  But  every  man, 
even  the  tired  business  variety,  should  set  aside 


98 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


at  least  half  an  hour  a  day,  or  three  and  a  half 
hours  a  week.  I  realize  what  a  great  hardship 
it  is  for  some  people  to  devote  one-forty-eighth 
of  their  time  to  such  a  useless  pastime  as  think¬ 
ing.  But  if  they  wiU  make  the  sacrifice  for 
seven  consecutive  days  they  will  find  themselves 
bearing  up  nobly  at  the  end. 

There  is  even  a  possibility  that  they  may  be 
encouraged  to  extend  the  time. 


V 


PREJUDICE  AND  UNCERTAINTY 

‘  ‘  T^ROM  time  to  time  there  returns  upon 
A  the  cautious  thinker,  the  conclusion  that, 
considered  simply  as  a  question  of  probabili¬ 
ties,  it  is  decidedly  unlikely  that  his  views  upon 
any  debatable  topic  are  correct.  ‘Here,’  he  re¬ 
flects,  ‘  are  thousands  around  me  holding  on  this 
or  that  point  opinions  differing  from  mine — 
wholly  in  most  cases;  partially  in  the  rest. 
Each  is  as  confident  as  I  am  of  the  truth  of  his 
convictions.  Many  of  them  are  possessed  of 
great  intelligence;  and,  rank  myself  high  as  I 
may,  I  must  admit  that  some  are  my  equals — 
perhaps  my  superiors.  Yet,  while  every  one  of 
us  is  sure  he  is  right,  unquestionably  most  of  us 
are  wrong.  Why  should  not  I  be  among  the 
mistaken!  True,  I  cannot  realize  the  likelihood 
that  I  am  so.  But  this  proves  nothing;  for 
though  the  majority  of  us  are  necessarily  in 
error,  we  all  labor  under  the  inability  to  think 

99 


100 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


we  are  in  error.  Is  it  not  then  foolish  thus  to 
trust  myself  1  When  I  look  back  into  the  past, 

I  find  nations,  sects,  philosophers,  cherishing  be¬ 
liefs  in  science,  morals,  politics,  and  religion, 
which  we  decisively  reject.  Yet  they  held  them 
with  a  faith  quite  as  strong  as  ours;  nay — 
stronger,  if  their  intolerance  of  dissent  is  any 
criterion.  Of  what  little  worth,  therefore, 
seems  this  strength  of  my  conviction  that  I  am 
right?  A  hke  warrant  has  been  felt  by  men  all  : 
the  world  through ;  and,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
has  proved  a  delusive  warrant.  Is  it  not  then 
absurd  in  me  to  put  so  much  faith  in  my  judg¬ 
ments  V  ”  ^ 

I  trust  the  reader  will  pardon  this  second  ; : 
rather  extended  quotation  from  Herbert  Spen¬ 
cer,  but  the  thought  expressed  must  be  kept  in  i 
mind  if  we  are  to  approach  our  present  subject 
in  the  proper  spirit.  .  .  . 

Our  subject  is  prejudice.  Our  object  is  to 
free  ourselves  as  much  as  possible  from  our 
own  prejudices.  But  before  we  can  get  rid  of 
a  thing  it  is  first  necessary  to  recognize  that 
thing  when  we  see  it. 

1  Essay,  Over-Legislation. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


101 


Prejudice  is  often  confused  with  intolerance. 
They  are  not  the  same.  A  man  may  be  preju¬ 
diced  and  not  intolerant.  You  may  think  that 
your  alma  mater,  your  city,  or  your  country,  is 
the  greatest  in  the  world,  for  little  other  reason 
than  simply  that  it  is  yours.  Your  opinion  is 
prejudiced.  But  you  may  not  protest  if  any 
other  man  thinks  that  his  alma  mater,  or  his 
city,  or  his  country,  is  the  best  in  the  world.  In 
fact  you  may  not  have  much  respect  for  him 
if  he  doesn’t  think  so.  And  your  opinion  is 
tolerant. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  man  may  be  intolerant 
and  not  prejudiced.  You  may  decide,  solely  on 
the  evidence  and  on  grounds  of  pure  reason, 
that  paper  money — fiat  money — is  always  a 
harmful  form  of  currency,  and  you  may  be 
justly  wrathful  against  the  man  who  advocates 
it.  You  may  even  wish  him  suppressed.  Yet 
you  may  be  able  to  answer  all  his  arguments. 
But  you  fear  that  if  he  is  allowed  to  air  his 
views  they  will  take  hold  on  minds  as  shallow 
as  his  own.  You  fear  that  once  they  have  taken 
root  it  will  be  diflScult  to  dislodge  them,  and  that 
in  the  meanwhile  they  may  do  harm  by  being 


102 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


put  into  practice.  You  are  intolerant.  But 
you  are  not  prejudiced.  It  is  well  to  remem¬ 
ber  this  distinction  when  accusations  of  preju¬ 
dice  are  flying  through  the  ozone. 

One  thing  more  must  he  kept  in  mind. 
Prejudice  has  less  connection  with  truth  and  i 
falsity  than  is  generally  supposed.  The  fact^ 
that  a  man  is  unprejudiced  does  not  make  his 
opinion  right.  And  the  fact  that  a  man  is 
prejudiced  does  not  necessarily  make  his  opin¬ 
ion  wrong;  though  it  must  be  admitted  that  if  | 
it  is  right  it  will  be  so  only  by  accident. 

It  is  often  thought  that  prejudice  can  be  im¬ 
mediately  recognized.  Locke  says,  ‘  ‘  Every  one 
is  forward  to  complain  of  the  prejudices  that 
mislead  other  men  or  parties,  as  if  he  were  free 
and  had  none  of  his  own.  ,  .  .  This  is  the  mote 
which  every  one  sees  in  his  brother’s  eye,  but 
never  regards  the  beam  in  his  own.  ’  ’  ^  How¬ 
ever,  slight  consideration  will  convince  us  that 
because  one  man  accuses  another  of  prejudice, 
it  does  not  follow  that  the  accused  is  guilty. 
The  general  practice  is  to  accuse  of  prejudice 

5  Tht  Oondmt  of  the  TJnderstcmdmg. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


103 


I  !  any  one  whose  views  happen  to  differ  from  our 
ijl  own. 

Let  us  consider  a  formal  dictionary  definition 
t  of  prejudice:  “Judgment  formed  without  due 
!  examination ;  opinion  adverse  to  anything,  with- 
I  out  just  grounds  or  sufficient  knowledge.” 

'  This  is  not  altogether  satisfactory.  A  man 
j:  may  form  a  judgment  without  sufficient  knowl- 
li  edge  and  still  be  unprejudiced.  He  may  be  per¬ 
fectly  open  minded  and  willing  to  change  his 
'  opinion  if  other  evidence  is  adduced.  But  even 
if  the  formation  of  a  judgment  without  suffi- 
i  cient  knowledge  is  prejudice,  it  is  often  justi¬ 
fied.  At  all  events,  every  one  will  agree  that 
I  the  foregoing  definition  helps  us  little  in  dis¬ 
covering  our  own  prejudices.  AH  of  us,  for  in¬ 
stance,  believe  our  judgment  on  any  given  ques¬ 
tion  has  been  formed  with  due  examination, 
each  being  his  own  judge  of  what  constitutes 
‘  ‘  due.  ’  ’ 

It  is  difficult  to  find  any  satisfactory  defini¬ 
tion.  Perhaps  the  best  I  can  do  is  to  point  out 
various  specific  forms  of  prejudice  and  their 
causes.  The  first  form  of  prejudice  I  shall 


104 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


name  consists  in  a  love  for,  and  a  desire  to  hold, 
some  opinion.  We  may  roughly  ascribe  this  de¬ 
sire  to  three  causes : 

(1)  We  desire  an  opinion  to  he  right  because 
we  would  be  personally  benefited  if  it  were. 
Promise  a  man  that  if  he  invests  his  money  in 
the  Lookgood  Gold  Mine  he  will  receive  divi¬ 
dends  of  over  40  per  cent,  annually,  and  he  is 
in  danger  of  becoming  extremely  gullible.  He 
shirks  looking  up  the  previous  record  of  the  pro¬ 
moters  or  directors  because  he  has  a  secret  and 
indefined  fear  that  if  he  does  he  will  find  their 
pictures  in  the  Rogues’  Gallery.  Advertise  in 
a  magazine  that  any  thin  man  can  gain  seven 
to  fourteen  pounds  a  week  by  drinking  Pattilac  i 
and  you  wiU  receive  hundreds  of  answers  en-  < 
closing  the  fifty  cents  for  a  trial  bottle.  Not  i 
one  desperately  slim  man  in  ten  will  stop  to 
ask  himself  how  the  miracle  can  be  performed. 
In  fact,  he  will  do  his  worst  to  argue  himself 
into  the  matter.  He  will  teU  himself  that  the 
advertisement  is  in  a  reliable  magazine,  that 
the  company  would  not  dare  to  make  an  as¬ 
sertion  like  that  unless  it  could  make  good, 
that  .  .  . 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


105 


But  we  may  pass  over  the  more  obvious  bene¬ 
fits,  and  proceed  to  those  causes  of  prejudice 
less  consciously  selfish  or  directly  beneficial. 
If  an  economist  were  to  write  a  book  attempt¬ 
ing  to  prove  that  bankers  were  really  unneces¬ 
sary  and  could  be  dispensed  with,  it  is  a  rather 
sure  guess  that  a  banker  would  not  regard  very 
highly  the  intellectual  powers  of  that  economist. 
If  he  considered  his  arguments  at  all,  it  would 
be  only  with  the  view  of  refuting  them.  In  an 
even  less  conscious  way,  a  rich  man  is  likely  to 
oppose  socialism  or  communism,  not  so  much 
because  he  has  evidence  of  intrinsic  worth 
against  them,  but  because  he  fears  that  if  such 
systems  of  society  were  put  into  effect  he  would 
lose  most  of  his  wealth.  The  man  who  has 
nothing  is  likely  to  look  with  favor  upon  these 
schemes,  because  they  offer  him  promise  of 
better  things. 

The  mere  fact  that  we  are  ignorant  of  a  cer¬ 
tain  thing  will  prejudice  us  against  it,  while 
knowledge  of  it  will  prepossess  us  in  its  favor. 
Ten  chances  to  one  a  person  who  has  been 
taught  Esperanto  will  favor  the  adoption  of  an 
international  language — and  the  adoption  of 


106 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


Esperanto  in  particular.  Most  of  the  remarks 
on  the  uselessness  of  the  classics  come  from 
those  ignorant  of  them;  while  those  who,  in  or-' 
der  to  get  a  college  degree  or  for  some  like 
reason,  have  been  forced  to  study  Greek  and' 
Latin,  will  generally  always  exaggerate  their 
importance.  Most  of  the  opposition  to  simpli- , 
fied  spelling  is  due  to  the  fact  that  having  taken 
the  time  and  toil  to  master  our  atrociously  in¬ 
consistent  spelling,  people  have  a  vague  fear 
that  if  a  phonetic  system  were  adopted,  chil¬ 
dren,  the  ignorant  classes  and  persons  of  poor) 
memories  would  he  able  to  spell  just  as  well  as  j 
they,  without  one  quarter  the  trouble  of  learn-  | 
ing.  Not  that  they  are  conscious  of  this  child-  I 
ish  and  unworthy  attitude,  for  usually  they  are  ; 
not,  but  the  motive  is  operative  none  the  less. 

Of  course  in  all  the  foregoing  cases  of  preju¬ 
dice,  as  in  those  to  follow,  none  of  the  victims 
ever  uses  any  of  liis  real  reasons  in  argument, 
though  he  will  bring  forward  nearly  every  other 
reason  on  earth  to  justify  his  belief.  And  to  do 
him  justice,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  is  often 
unaware  of  the  true  cause  of  his  inclination  to 
one  side  rather  than  another. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


107 


Though  it  is  less  directly  selfish,  the  patri¬ 
otic  bias  may  fairly  be  classed  with  the  preju¬ 
dices  we  have  just  been  considering.  At  this 
time  the  most  stupendous  war  of  all  history  is 
raging.  But  I  know  of  no  German  or  Austrian 
or  Turk  or  Bulgarian  who  has  so  far  admitted 
that  the  British  or  the  French  or  the  Russians 
or  the  Italians  or  the  Belgians  or  the  Servians 
or  the  Montenegrins  or  the  Japanese  can  by 
any  possibility  have  right  on  their  side,  nor  do 
I  know  of  any  Japanese  or  Montenegrin  or 
Servian  or  Belgian  or  Italian  or  Russian  or 
Frenchman  or  Englishman  who  believes  that 
the  Bulgarians  or  the  Turks  or  the  Austrians  or 
the  Germans  are  in  the  right.  Philosophers 
and  men  of  science  are  no  exception;  Miinster- 
berg,  Eucken  and  Haeckel  write  publicly  in 
favor  of  Germany  and  fifty  of  England’s  fore¬ 
most  authors  unanimously  sign  a  pronuncia- 
mento  in  support  of  their  native  country — yet 
nobody  is  surprised. 

(2)  Another  reason  why  we  desire  an  opin¬ 
ion  to  be  right  is  because  we  already  happen 
to  hold  it.  As  one  writer  expresses  it,  “We 
often  form  our  opinions  on  the  slightest  evi- 


108 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


dence,  yet  we  are  inclined  to  cling  to  them  witl 
grim  tenacity.”  There  are  two  reasons  fo; 
this. 

When  we  have  formed  an  opinion  on  any 
thing,  the  chances  are  that  we  have  commnni ; 
cated  it  to  some  one,  and  have  thereby  com¬ 
mitted  ourselves  to  that  side.  Now  to  reverst 
an  opinion  is  to  confess  that  we  were  previously 
wrong.  To  reverse  an  opinion  is  to  lay  our-i 
selves  open  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency.  TOi 
be  inconsistent — to  admit  that  our  judgments 
are  human  and  fallible — this  is  the  last  thing 
we  can  ever  think  of.  ‘‘Inconsistency,”  said 
Emerson,  “is  the  hobgoblin  of  little  minds.” 
And  if  by  this  he  meant  inconsistency  in  the 
sense  of  changing  opinions  already  formed,  we  i 
must  agree  with  him. 

The  hypothesis  maker  has  a  specific  form  of 
this  fear  of  inconsistency.  This  type  of  the-  ■ 
orist  makes  a  supposition  to  account  for  cer¬ 
tain  facts.  When  he  meets  with  certain  allied 
facts  for  which  the  supposition  apparently  does 
not  account,  he  either  ignores  said  facts,  or 
cuts  and  trims  them,  or  bullies  them  into  his 
theory.  Hypotheses  per  se  have  never  done 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


109 


any  harm.  In  fact  they  are  indispensable  in  all 
thought,  especially  as  an  aid  to  observation. 
But  it  is  the  desire  to  prove  an  hypothesis  cor¬ 
rect,  simply  because  it  is  our  hypothesis,  or  be¬ 
cause  it  is  a  fascinating  hypothesis,  which  has 
done  harm.  Darwin  says  that  he  had  made  it 
a  habit  “whenever  a  published  fact,  a  new  ob¬ 
servation  or  thought  came  across  me,  which  was 
opposed  to  my  general  results,  to  make  a  memo¬ 
randum  of  it  without  fail  and  at  once;  for  I 
had  found  by  experience  that  such  facts  and 
thoughts  were  far  more  apt  to  escape  from  the 
memory  than  favorable  ones.” 

The  second  reason  for  desiring  to  cling  to 
an  opinion  because  we  already  hold  it  is  one 
which  could  probably  best  be  explained  by  physi¬ 
ological  psychology  and  a  study  of  the  brain. 
We  feel  almost  a  physical  pain  when  a  tenet 
we  have  long  cherished  is  tom  up  and  exposed. 
The  longer  we  hold  an  opinion,  the  harder  it  is 
for  us  to  get  rid  of  it.  In  this  respect  it  is 
similar  to  habit.  Nor  is  the  comparison  an 
analogy  merely.  An  opinion  is  a  habit  of 
thought.  It  has  the  same  basis  in  the  brain, 
and  is  subject  to  the  same  laws,  as  a  habit  of 


110 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


action.  It  is  well  known  that  the  opinions  of  a 
man  over  forty  are  pretty  well  set.  The  older 
a  man  grows,  the  harder  it  is  for  him  to  change , 
an  opinion — or  for  others  to  change  it  for  him. 

The  side  of  a  controversy  we  see  first  is 
usually  the  side  we  see  last.  This  is  because 
the  arguments  we  meet  do  not  have  to  shake  up 
or  dislodge  anything  in  our  brain  (unless  we 
are  very  critical,  and  we  generally  aren’t). 
But  once  let  an  opinion  gain  entrance,  and  any 
opinion  contrary  to  it  will  have  to  dislodge  the 
old  one  before  it  can  find  a  place  for  itself. 

And  as  Mark  Twain  has  remarked,  “When  : 
even  the  brightest  mind  in  our  world  has  been 
trained  from  childhood  in  a  superstition  of  any  ■ 
kind,  it  will  never  he  possible  for  that  mind,  i 
in  its  maturity,  to  examine  sincerely,  dispas-  > 
sionately,  and  conscientiously  any  evidence  or 
any  circumstance  which  shall  seem  to  cast  a 
doubt  upon  the  validity  of  that  superstition.” 
Of  course  Mark  Twain  was  wrong.  Of  course 
we  are  The  Eeasoning  Eace,  as  he  cynically  in¬ 
timates  we  are  not.  To  religion,  for  instance, 
the  most  important  question  which  can  engage 
our  understanding,  each  of  us  always  gives  in- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


111 


dependent  thought.  It  is  a  mere  accident,  of 
course,  that  almost  all  of  the  400,000,000  China¬ 
men  are  Buddhists.  It  is  a  mere  accident  that 
the  overwhelming  mass  of  East  Indians  are 
Brahmans.  It  is  only  by  chance  that  practi¬ 
cally  all  Turks,  Persians  and  Arabians  are 
Mohammedans.  And  it  merel}^  happened  to 
happen  that  England  is  Protestant  and  Ireland 
is  Catholic.  .  .  .  But  it  is  unsafe  to  bring  this 
question  of  religion  too  near  home. 

We  now  come  to  our  third  cause  of  desire : 

(3)  We  desire  an  opinion  to  be  wrong  be¬ 
cause  we  would  be  forced  to  change  other  opin¬ 
ions  if  it  were  not;  or  we  desire  an  opinion  to 
be  right  because  then  we  would  be  able  to  re¬ 
tain  our  other  opinions.  This  is  a  most  wide¬ 
spread  form  of  prejudice.  But  I  believe  it  is, 
fortunately,  the  most  defensible.  Its  defensi- 
bility,  however,  depends  mainly  on  the  opinions 
we  fear  to  change.  These  "we  may  divide  into 
two  kinds : 

(a)  Those  which  have  been  formed  without 
thought;  borrowed  opinions,  etc.  The  greatest 
opposition  to  the  theory  of  evolution  came  from 
those  conservative  Christians  who  saw  that  it 


112 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


undermined  any  literal  interpretation  of  Gene¬ 
sis.  If  these  Christians  had  investigated  the 
sources  of  that  book,  had  considered  its  prob¬ 
able  authority,  had  given  thought  to  the  possi- 
bihty  of  inspired  writing,  and  had  finally  de¬ 
cided  in  favor  of  the  Biblical  narrative ;  then — 
right  or  not — their  opposition  to  Darwin’s  the¬ 
ory  would  have  been  free  at  least  from  this 
sort  of  prejudice.  But  most  of  this  opposition 
had  come  from  persons  who  had  not  thought  of  I 
Genesis,  but  had  accepted  it  from  the  first,  be-  ] 
cause  it  had  been  dogmatically  hammered  into  > 
their  heads  since  childhood.  Hence  it  was 
prejudice,  pure  and  simple. 

(b)  The  second  kind  of  opinions  we  fear  to 
change  are  those  resting  mainly  upon  evidence. 
William  James  gives  an  example : 

“Why  do  so  few  ‘scientists’  even  look  at  the 
evidence  for  telepathy,  so-caUed  ?  Because  they 
think,  as  a  leading  biologist,  now  dead,  once  said 
to  me,  that  even  if  such  a  thing  were  true,  scien¬ 
tists  ought  to  band  together  to  keep  it  sup¬ 
pressed  and  concealed.  It  would  undo  the  uni¬ 
formity  of  nature,  and  all  sorts  of  other  things 
without  which  scientists  cannot  carry  on  their 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


113 


pursuits.  ’  ’  ®  Darwin  writes  that  when  a  youth 
he  told  Sedgwick  the  geologist  of  how  a  tropical 
Volute  shell  had  been  found  in  a  gravel  pit  near 
Shrewsbury.  Sedgwick  replied  that  some  one 
must  have  thrown  it  there,  and  added  that  if  it 
were  “really  imbedded  there,  it  would  be  the 
greatest  misfortune  to  geology,  as  it  would 
overthrow  all  that  we  know  about  the  super¬ 
ficial  deposits  of  the  Midland  Counties” — 
which  belonged  to  the  glacial  period.^ 

Some  readers  may  object  to  calling  the  last 
case  prejudice.  They  may  say  that  Sedgwick 
was  perfectly  justified.  That,  however,  is  not 
the  present  question.  Prejudice  itself  may 
sometimes  be  justified.  But  Sedgwick  tacitly 
admitted  that  he  not  only  believed  the  shell  had 
not  been  imbedded,  he  actually  desired  that  it 
had  not  been.  And  our  desires  always  deter¬ 
mine,  to  a  great  extent,  the  trouble  we  take  to 
get  evidence,  and  the  importance  we  attach  to  it 
after  we  have  it. 

Emerson’s  remark,  that  inconsistency  is  the 
hobgoblin  of  little  minds,  is  true  in  a  double 
sense.  For  not  only  is  it  harmful  to  fear  to 


^  The  Will  to  Believe. 


Autobiography. 


114 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


change  an  opinion  which  we  have  entertained 
it  is  even  harmful  at  times  to  fear  to  hole] 
simultaneously  two  opinions  incongruous  witl] 
one  another.  If  a  thought  springs  up  in  youi] 
mind,  and  you  come  to  see  after  a  time  that  ill 
is  inconsistent  with  another  thought,  do  not  im-] 
mediately  try  to  throw  out  one  or  the  other.  In-! 
stead,  think  the  new  thought  out  in  all  its  bear¬ 
ings  and  implications,  just  as  if  you  had  neverJ 
had  the  first.  Perhaps  follow  the  same  practice! 
with  the  first  idea.  By  and  by  one  will  reveal  i 
its  falsity  and  the  other  its  truth.  Or  more 
likely  you  will  find  that  there  was  some  truth  in 
each  idea,  and  you  will  reconcile  the  two  in  a 
truth  higher,  deeper,  or  more  comprehensive. 


il 


I  have  set  down  these  three  cases  of  preju¬ 
dice  to  help  the  reader  in  recognizing  the  same 
or  similar  prejudices  in  himself.  And  the  mere 
recognition  of  prejudices  as  prejudices  will  do 
much  toward  their  elimination.  But  though  we 
all  strenuously  maintain  our  anxiety  to  get  rid 
of  prejudices,  the  real  reason  most  of  us  have 
them  is  that  we  do  not  want  to  get  rid  of  them. 
We  are  all  willing  to  get  rid  of  prejudice  in 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


115 


^  the  abstract.  But  when  some  one  troubles  him- 
'^self  to  point  out  any  particular  concrete  preju- 
^  dice  of  ours  we  defend  it  and  cling  to  it  like  a 
'  dog  to  his  bone.  The  only  way  we  can  get  rid 
of  this  desire  to  cling  to  our  prejudices,  is  thor¬ 
oughly  to  convince  ourselves  of  the  superiority 
of  the  truth;  to  leave  not  the  slightest  doubt 
in  our  own  minds  as  to  the  value  of  looking  with 
perfect  indifference  on  all  questions ;  to  see  that 
this  is  more  advantageous  than  believing  in  that 
opinion  vflnch  would  benefit  us  most  if  true, 
more  important  than  “being  consistent,”  more 
to  be  cherished  than  the  comfortable  feeling  of 
certainty.  When  we  really  do  desire  to  get  rid 
of  our  prejudices  we  will  put  ourselves  on  the 
path  of  getting  rid  of  them.  And  not  before 
then. 

One  more  prejudice  has  yet  to  be  considered. 
This  may  be  called  the  prejudice  of  imitation. 
We  agree  with  others,  we  adopt  the  same  opin¬ 
ions  of  the  people  around  us,  because  we  fear 
to  disagree.  We  fear  to  differ  with  them  in 
thought  in  the  same  way  that  we  fear  to  differ 
with  them  in  dress.  In  fact  this  parallel  be¬ 
tween  style  in  thought  and  style  in  clothing 


116 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


seems  to  liold  throughout.  Just  as  we  fear  t(| 
look  different  from  the  people  around  us  bei 
cause  we  wiR  be  considered  freakish,  so  we  feail 
to  think  differently  because  we  know  we  will  be 
looked  upon  as  “queer.”  If  we  have  a  number 
of  such  dissenting  opinions  we  will  be  regarded 
as  anything  from  a  mere  crank  to  a  fanatic  or 
one  with  a  ‘  ‘  screw  loose.  ’  ’  When  our  backs  are 
turned  people  will  wisely  point  their  index  fin¬ 
gers  to  their  temples  and  move  them  around  in 
little  circles. 

Our  fear  of  freak  opinions  is  only  equalled 
by  our  dread  of  ideas  old-fashioned.  A  little 
while  ago  it  was  considered  popular  to  laugh 
at  the  suffragettes.  And  everybody  laughed. 
Now  it  is  getting  to  be  popular  to  laugh  at  the 
anti-suffragettes.  A  little  while  ago  it  was  con¬ 
sidered  quite  comme  il  faut  to  fear  socialism. 
Now  it  is  becoming  proper  to  remark,  “There  is 
really  quite  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  their  the¬ 
ories.  ’  ’  And  soon  we  shall  doubtless  all  be  out 
and  out  socialists. 

Nor  is  the  prejudice  of  imitation  confined  to 
the  layman.  If  anything,  it  is  even  more  com¬ 
mon  among  so-caUed  “thinkers.”  I  remember 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


117 


quoting  some  remark  of  Spencer  to  an  acquaint¬ 
ance,  and  getting  this :  “Yes,  but  isn’t  flerbert 
Spencer’s  philosophy  considered  dead?”  This 
same  acquaintance  also  informed  me  that  John 
Stuart  Mill  had  been  “superseded.”  He  can¬ 
didly  admitted — in  fact  seemed  rather  proud 
of  the  fact — that  he  had  read  practically  noth¬ 
ing  of  either  philosopher.  I  am  not  trying  to 
defend  Spencer  or  John  Stuart  Mill,  nor  am  I 
attempting  to  bark  at  the  heels  of  any  of  our 
present-day  philosophers.  But  I  am  willing  to 
wager  that  most  of  these  same  people  now  so 
dithyrambic  in  their  praise  of  James,  Bergson, 
Eucken  and  Russell  will  twenty-five  years 
hence  be  ashamed  to  mention  those  names,  and 
will  be  devoting  themselves  solely  to  Post-neo¬ 
futurism,  or  whatever  else  happens  to  be  the 
passing  fadosophy  of  the  moment. 

If  this  is  the  most  prevalent  form  of  preju¬ 
dice  it  is  also  the  most  difficult  to  get  rid  of. 
This  requires  moral  courage.  It  requires  the 
rarest  kind  of  moral  courage.  It  requires  just 
as  much  courage  for  a  man  to  state  and  defend 
an  idea  opposed  to  the  one  in  fashion  as  it 
would  for  a  city  man  to  dress  coolly  on  a  swel- 


118 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


tering  day,  or  for  a  young  society  woman  to  at¬ 
tend  a  smart  affair  in  one  of  last  year ’s  gowns. :  u 
The  man  who  possesses  this  moral  courage  is  ^ 
blessed  beyond  kings,  but  he  must  pay  the  fear¬ 
ful  price  of  ridicule  or  contempt. 

There  is  another  form  of  this  prejudice  of 
imitation  radically  opposed  to  this.  Just  as 
with  fashions  in  clothes  there  are  people  who 
strive  to  imitate  others,  so  there  are  people  who  ■ 
devote  themselves  entirely  to  being  “differ¬ 
ent.”  Their  greatest  fear  is  that  they  will  be 
taken  for  “one  of  the  mob.”  They  dress  them-  | 
selves  as  uniquely  as  possible  in  order  to  ac-  i 
quire  “individuality.”  We  have  these  same  > 
people  in  the  realm  of  thought.  They  are  in 
constant  trepidation  lest  they  say  something 
that  everybody  else  says.  They  say  things  not 
for  the  sake  of  truth  but  for  humor  or  paradox. 
Their  great  delight  is  to  affirm  or  defend  some¬ 
thing  “new”  regardless  of  its  truth;  something 
deliciously  radical  which  will  shock  everybody 
else  and  startle  even  themselves.  The  worst 
part  of  this  is  that  these  people  gradually  come 
to  regard  their  propositions  as  true,  just  as  a 
liar  finally  comes  to  believe  his  own  lies. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


119 


The  only  cure  for  such  a  mental  condition 
is  a  constant  sincerity  in  every  opinion  we  ad¬ 
vance.  People  are  often  led  into  the  fault  by 
a  motive  not  incomm  end  able  in  itself — the  de¬ 
sire  for  originality.  But  they  choose  the  wrong 
path  to  their  goal.  If  you  make  originality  and 
radicalness  your  aim,  you  will  attain  neither 
truth  nor  originality.  But  if  you  make  truth 
your  aim  you  will  very  likely  get  truth,  and 
originality  will  come  of  itself. 

There  are  hundreds  of  prejudices,  hundreds 
of  forms  of  prejudice.  There  is,  for  instance, 
the  prejudice  of  conservatism,  which  manifests 
itself  in  a  vague  fear  that  if  the  present  order 
were  changed  in  any  particular — if  women  were 
given  the  vote,  if  socialism  were  to  triumph,  if 
a  new  filing  system  were  to  be  installed  at  the 
office — all  would  be  lost.  But  I  cannot  deal  ade¬ 
quately  with  all  the  forms  of  bias  which  flock 
to  mind. 

The  distinguishing  mark  of  the  great  think¬ 
ers  of  the  ages  was  their  comparative  freedom 
from  the  prejudices  of  their  time  and  commu¬ 
nity.  In  order  to  avoid  these  prejudices  one 
must  be  constantly  and  uncompromisingly 


120 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


sounding  his  own  opinions.  Eternal  vigilance 
is  the  price  of  an  open  mind. 

Prejudice  is  not  the  only  danger  which  lies  in 
wait  for  the  would-be  thinker.  In  his  very  ef¬ 
forts  to  get  rid  of  prejudice  he  is  liable  to  fall 
into  an  even  greater  intellectual  sin.  This  sin 
is  uncertainty. 

As  uncertainty  and  doubt  are  nearly  syn- 1 
onymous,  the  reader  will  probably  be  surprised 
at  this  statement  because  of  the  praise  I  have 
hitherto  accorded  to  the  doubtful  attitude.  But 
the  doubtful  attitude,  necessary  and  praise¬ 
worthy  as  it  is,  should  not  be  maintained  al-  i 
ways.  We  think  in  order  to  have  opinions. 
We  have  opinions  in  order  to  guide  action;  in  ' 
order  to  act  upon  should  occasion  require. 
Herbert  Spencer,  even  after  his  remarks  quoted 
at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  which  imply 
the  need  of  extreme  caution,  adds,  .  In 
daily  life  we  are  constantly  obliged  to  act  out 
our  inferences,  trustless  as  they  may  be —  .  .  . 
in  the  house,  in  the  office,  in  the  street,  there 
hourly  arise  occasions  on  which  we  may  not 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


121 


hesitate ;  seeing  that  if  to  act  is  dangerous,  never 
to  act  at  all  is  fatal.  ...” 

There  are  other  reasons  why  we  cannot  af¬ 
ford  to  keep  the  doubtful  attitude.  If  our  lives 
were  interminable,  if  we  had  limitless  time  for 
thinking,  we  could  afford  to  remain  in  doubt  in¬ 
definitely.  But  life  is  fleeting.  So  if  you  have 
examined  facts  obtainable  on  such  a  question  as 
psychic  phenomena,  have  kept  your  mind  open 
for  a  certain  time,  and  have  decided  that  com¬ 
munication  with  the  dead  is  impossible,  you  are 
justified  in  discontinuing  to  look  for  evidence 
on  that  question.  Every  hour  devoted  to  ex¬ 
amining  such  evidence  would  be  an  hour  taken 
away  from  thought  on  some  other  subject,  and 
the  law  of  diminishing  returns  is  just  as  appli¬ 
cable  in  thinking  as  in  economics. 

Another  trouble  with  the  attitude  of  doubt  is 
that  when  not  properly  utilized  it  hinders 
rather  than  aids  the  acquisition  of  truth.  This 
is  especially  the  case  when  it  takes  the  form 
of  fear  of  prejudice.  If  guided  by  this  fear,  in 
our  anxiety  not  to  discriminate  in  favor  of  one 
side  of  a  question  we  are  apt  to  discriminate  in 


122 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


favor  of  the  other.  In  an  attempt  to  give  an; 
opposing  argument  due  consideration,  we  are 
liable  to  give  it  undue  consideration.  Instead' 
of  removing  prejudice  with  reason  we  may  be  ^ 
trying  to  balance  one  prejudice  with  a  counter 
prejudice.  When  a  person  disagrees  with  him, 
a  very  conscientious  thinker,  fearing  that  he 
may  be  prejudiced,  and  in  order  to  prove  him¬ 
self  broad-minded,  will  often  say  regarding  an 
objection,  “Well,  there  may  be  something  in 
that.”  Now  your  only  excuse  for  ever  sa\dng, 
“There  may  he  something  in  that,”  will  he  as 
an  attitude  to  assume  in  experimenting  or  ob¬ 
serving,  or  looking  up  material  or  arguments 
to  find  whether  there  actually  is  anything  in  it. 
Then,  if  you  do  not  find  anything  in  it  yon  are 
justified  in  saying  so — and  you  ought  to.  | 

it  is  useless  to  stimulate  doubt  unless  you  'i 
intend,  on  grounds  of  reason,  to  settle  the  doubt. 
The  doubtful  attitude  should  he  maintained 
only  so  long  as  you  are  actively  searching  for 
evidence  hearing  on  a  question.  Maintained  at 
any  other  time  or  used  in  any  other  way  it 
means  merely  uncertainty,  indefiniteness,  vague¬ 
ness,  and  leads  nowhere. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


123 


It  is  important  that  we  be  unprejudiced.  It 
is  even  more  important  that  our  views  be  defin¬ 
ite.  Aud  if  our  definite  views  are  wrong?  .  .  . 
But  the  words  of  Thomas  Huxley  on  this  sub¬ 
ject  cannot  be  improved : 

“A  great  lawyer-statesman  and  philosopher 
of  a  former  age — I  mean  Francis  Bacon — said 
that  truth  came  out  of  error  much  more  rapidly 
than  it  came  out  of  confusion.  There  is  a  won¬ 
derful  truth  in  that  saying.  Next  to  being  right 
in  tliis  world,  the  best  of  all  things  is  to  be 
clearly  and  definitely  wrong,  because  you  will 
come  out  somewhere.  If  you  go  buzzing  about 
between  right  and  wrong,  vibrating  and  fluctu¬ 
ating,  you  come  out  nowhere ;  but  if  you  are  ab¬ 
solutely  and  thoroughly  and  persistently  wrong, 
you  must,  some  of  these  days,  have  the  extreme 
good  fortune  of  knocking  your  head  against  a 
fact,  and  that  sets  you  all  straight  again.  ’  ’  ® 

When  you  find  yourself  fluctuating  back  and 
forth  between  two  opinions  you  might  find  it 
helpful  to  hold  an  internal  debate.  State  to 
yourself  as  strongly  as  possible  the  case  for  the 
afiirmative,  and  then  put  as  convincingly  as  pos- 


s  Science  <md  Education. 


124 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


sible  the  case  for  the  negative,  holding  a  refu¬ 
tation  if  necessary.  You  may  even  elaborate 
this  by  writing  the  arguments  for  both  sides  in 
parallel  columns.  Of  course  you  should  never 
use  an  argument  which  you  can  see  on  its  face 
to  be  fallacious,  nor  a  statement  which  repre¬ 
sents  merely  a  prejudice  and  nothing  more. 
You  should  use  only  such  arguments  as  you 
think  a  sincere  debater  would  conscientiously 
employ.  By  thus  making  your  reasons  articu¬ 
late  you  will  often  find  that  there  is  really  no 
tenable  case  at  all  for  one  side,  and  you  will  5! 
seldom  fail  to  reach  a  definite  conclusion. 
This  method  of  arriving  at  a  decision  may  be  < 
voted  childish  and  even  artificial,  but  nothing  is  | 
to  be  despised  which  can  render  intellectual  j 
help. 

One  word  more  on  this.  There  is  a  type  of  , 
individual,  most  often  met  with  among  writ^ers,  ' 
who  fears  to  make  a  statement  of  his  thought 
definite,  because  he  has  a  faint  suspicion  that  it 
may  be  wrong.  He  wishes  to  allow  himself 
plenty  of  loopholes  to  slip  out  of  an  intellectual 
position  in  case  any  one  should  attack  it. 
Hence  he  never  says  outright,  “Such  and  such 


I 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


125 


is  the  case.”  Instead,  his  talk  or  writing  is 
guarded  on  all  sides  by  such  expressions  as  “It 
is  probable  that,”  “it  is  possible  that,”  “the 
facts  seem  to  indicate  that”;  or  “such  and  such 
is  perhaps  the  case.”  Not  satisfied  with  this 
he  makes  his  statement  less  positive  by  preced¬ 
ing  it  with  an  “  I  believe,  ’  ’  or  worse  yet,  with  an 
“/  am  inclined  to  believe.” 

This  is  often  done  under  the  impression  that 
it  is  something  noble,  that  it  signifies  broad¬ 
mindedness,  lack  of  dogmatism,  and  modesty. 
It  may.  If  it  does,  so  much  the  worse  for 
broadmindedness,  lack  of  dogmatism,  and  mod¬ 
esty.  Never  yield  to  the  temptation  to  word 
your  thoughts  in  this  manner.  If  you  truly  and 
firmly  believe  that  ‘  ‘  such  and  such  is  the  case  ’  ’ 
say  “such  and  such  is  the  case”;  not  “it  is  pos¬ 
sible  that  such  and  such  is  the  case,”  or  “such 
and  such  is  perhaps  the  case,”  or  “it  is  my  be¬ 
lief  that  such  and  such  is  the  case.”  People 
will  assume  that  it  is  your  belief  and  not  some¬ 
body  else’s. 

Suppose  you  have  made  a  positive  statement. 
And  suppose  you  later  find  it  to  be  wrong? 
Well  then,  acknowledge  that  it  is  wrong.  Ac- 


126 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


knowledge  that  you  have  done  something  hu-  , 
man ;  that  you  have  done  something  which  every 
man  before  you  has  done;  that  you  have  made 
a  mistake.  I  realize  such  a  confession  is  hard. 

It  is  the  severest  blow  you  can  deal  to  your- 
seK,  and  few  people  will  think  the  better  of  you 
for  doing  it.  Most  of  them  will  say,  “See,  he 
acknowledges  himself  that  he  was  wrong.'’  ' 
And  with  these  people,  both  you  and  your  the¬ 
ory  will  be  far  more  discredited  than  if  you  had 
clung  to  it  until  the  end  of  your  life,  no  matter 
how  obviously,  how  flagrantly,  it  opposed  itself 
to  facts.  But  a  few  people  will  appreciate  your 
sacrifice.  A  few  people  will  admire  your  big¬ 
ness.  And  you  will  grow.  You  will  grow  as 
a  thinker.  What  is  more,  you  will  grow  mor¬ 
ally.  And  the  time  will  come  when  you  will  I 
have  fewer  and  fewer  occasions  to  reverse  your-  ■ 
self,  for  you  will  learn  to  think  longer  before 
you  advocate  an  opinion. 

The  question  of  the  avoidance  of  prejudice 
and  the  necessity  of  breaking  off  doubt,  remains 
still  unsettled.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
two  desideratums  conflict ;  that  to  cut  off  doubt. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


127 


or  even  to  refrain  from  stimulating  it,  is  to  en¬ 
courage  by  so  much  the  dominance  of  preju¬ 
dice. 

The  answer  to  this  question  will  depend  en¬ 
tirely  upon  the  particular  problem  under  con¬ 
sideration.  No  rules  can  be  laid  down.  Every¬ 
thing  will  depend  upon  the  importance  of  the 
question,  upon  the  possibility  or  frequency  of 
occasions  when  we  may  be  called  to  act  upon 
the  answer,  and  upon  the  way  in  which  the  an¬ 
swer  will  affect  conduct  when  we  do  act  upon 
it.  "WHiere  the  importance  of  the  question  is 
trifling,  it  would  be  foolish  to  sound  our  preju¬ 
dices  too  deeply,  or  to  go  to  any  elaborate  pains 
to  collect  evidence.  Where  immediate,  unhesi¬ 
tating  action  is  required,  remaining  in  doubt 
might  be  fatal.  Any  decision  would  be  better 
than  no  decision.  When  the  importance  of  the 
question  is  vital,  or  when  the  possibility  of  hav¬ 
ing  to  act  on  the  answer  is  distant,  we  can  af¬ 
ford  to  preserve  our  doubts,  to  suspend  final 
judgment,  for  years — perhaps  during  our  entire 
life;  and  we  should  spare  no  pains  to  investi¬ 
gate  fully  all  that  relates  to  the  question. 

Just  how  much  trouble  to  take,  how  long  to 


128 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


keep  alive  the  attitude  of  doubt  in  any  particu¬ 
lar  question,  will  have  to  be  decided  by  the  in¬ 
dividual.  His  own  judgment  must  be  the  sole 
criterion. 


VI 


DEBATE  AND  CONVERSATION 

The  mind  engages  in  many  activities  which 
have  power  either  for  evil  or  good.  Just 
what  influence  they  will  exert  depends  on  how 
we  use  them.  One  of  the  most  important  of 
these  activities  is  debate. 

Debate  brings  in  that  unequaled  form  of  in¬ 
centive  for  all  action  w^hich  psychologists  call 
‘‘social  pressure”  and  which  here  means  noth¬ 
ing  more  than  the  desire  to  excel  a  fellow-be¬ 
ing  in  some  line  of  endeavor.  When  debating 
w^e  concentrate,  and  we  do  so  without  conscious 
effort.  We  are  too  interested  in  defeating  our 
opponent  to  wander  from  the  subject.  We  are 
forced  to  think  rapidly.  Not  least  of  all,  we  are 
compelled  to  think  articulately. 

But  with  all  its  advantages,  debate  is  one  of 
the  most  potent  sources  of  prejudice.  In  the 
heat  of  controversy,  w^e  adopt  any  and  every 

129 


130 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


argument  that  comes  handy.  Every  statemeni  \i 
of  our  opponent  is  considered  only  in  the  ligh1  ,j 
of  how  it  can  be  refuted.  We  are  willing  to  use 
almost  any  objection  against  him,  so  long  as  we 
believe  he  will  see  no  flaw  in  it.  It  is  of  ut¬ 
most  importance  that  we  find  how  to  avoid  these 
pitfalls. 

The  first  thing  we  must  do  is  to  adopt  a  com- 1 
plete  change  of  attitude  toward  an  opponent’s 
arguments.  Whenever  we  meet  with  a  fact : 
which  we  would  not  like  to  cite  in  a  debate ;  be-  ' 
cause,  to  put  it  mildly,  it  would  not  help  our  j 
side;  we  should  carefully  investigate  that  i 
fact.  We  should  consider  whether  if  true  it 
changes  the  aspect  of  things.  We  should  get 
rid  of  the  idea  that  in  order  to  vindicate  our  . 
side  we  must  answer  every  contention  our  op¬ 
ponent  advances.  For  this  opponent  of  ours 
will  very  likely  be  a  man  in  full  possession  of 
his  senses ;  at  least  some  of  his  arguments  will 
be  rational.  When  they  are,  we  should  be  will¬ 
ing  to  acknowledge  it.  Their  truth  does  not 
necessarily  make  his  side  right.  His  argu¬ 
ments  may  be  irrelevant;  they  may  be  outbal¬ 
anced  by  some  other  reason  or  reasons.  At- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


131 


tempts  to  prove  too  much  are  liable  to  put  us 
into  the  position  of  the  lawyer  whose  client  is 
alleged  to  have  been  sued  for  putting  a  hole  in 
a  borrowed  umbrella.  The  lawyer  proved  first, 
that  his  client  did  not  borrow  the  umbrella ;  sec¬ 
ond,  that  there  was  a  hole  in  it  when  he  got  it ; 
third,  that  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  it 
when  he  returned  it. 

After  yon  have  had  a  friendly  argument  with 
an  acquaintance,  you  take  leave  either  with  the 
satisfaction  that  you  have  bested  him,  or  with 
a  vague  consciousness  that  though  you  were 
right,  he  was  just  a  trifle  more  skillful  at  bring¬ 
ing  forward  arguments.  But  having  this  satis¬ 
faction  or  dissatisfaction,  you  seldom  think  any 
more  of  the  matter  until  the  next  time  you  meet 
him.  Now  this  practice  is  helpful  neither  to 
your  debating  nor  your  thinking.  After  you 
have  taken  leave  of  your  acquaintance,  and  are 
left  to  the  quietude  of  your  own  thoughts,  you 
should  mentaUy  run  over  your  controversy. 
You  should  dispassionately  consider  the  bearing 
and  weight  of  his  arguments ;  and  then,  review¬ 
ing  your  own,  ask  yourself  which  were  valid 
and  relevant  and  which  were  not.  If  you  find 


132 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


you  have  used  a  sophism  you  should  resolve 
never  to  use  it  again,  even  though  your  oppo¬ 
nent  may  have  been  unable  to  answer  it.  The 
question  of  morals  aside,  this  is  poor  practice  if 
you  ever  hope  to  become  a  thinker.  In  the  end, 
it  will  tell  against  you  even  as  a  debater. 

You  can  use  your  debates  for  constructive  ma-  i 
terial  as  well  as  for  criticism.  After  a  con-  ' 
troversy  you  can  go  over  the  arguments  of  your  I 
opponent  which  you  could  not  refute,  or  refuted 
but  lamely,  and  think  of  the  answers  you  might 
have  given.  Of  course  you  should  take  care  ■ 
that  these  answers  are  not  sophistical.  The  ■ 
question  will  very  likely  come  up  again ;  if  not 
with  the  same  friend,  then  with  another,  and 
when  it  does  you  will  find  yourself  prepared. 

But  the  best  debater,  or  at  least  he  who  gets 
the  most  from  debating,  is  the  man  who  looks 
for  evidence  and  thinks  not  for  debate,  but  to 
obtain  a  correct  conclusion.  After  he  has 
reached  a  conclusion  in  this  manner,  he  does  not 
advance  every  possible  reason  to  support  it. 
He  does  not  even  utilize  the  reasons  on  which 
others  base  a  similar  belief,  if  he  does  not  him¬ 
self  accept  these  reasons.  He  states  merely 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENC: 


133 


that  evidence  and  those  reasons  which  have  led 
him  to  accept  his  conclusion,  nothing  more. 

While  we  are  considering  debate,  I  may  well 
say  a  few  words  about  conversation  in  general. 
We  do  not  and  cannot  always  argue  with  our 
friends,  even  though  we  scorn  the  dictums  of 
formal  etiquette.  But  because  we  do  not  ar¬ 
gue,  it  does  not  follow  that  we  gain  nothing. 
In  fact,  ordinary  conversation  has  advantages 
numerous  over  debate,  not  the  least  of  which  is 
the  comparative  freedom  it  gives  from  preju¬ 
dice.  But  the  value  of  conversation  depends 
both  on  what  we  talk  about,  and  whom  we  talk 
with.  Too  much  of  our  talk  is  on  petty  mat¬ 
ters,  is  uneducative.  And  even  if  we  converse 
on  worthy  topics,  it  will  profit  us  little  if  we 
do  not  talk  with  worthy  people.  T\Tien  we  com¬ 
mune  with  a  dull  mind,  our  thoughts  are  forced, 
in  some  degree,  down  to  the  level  of  that  mind. 
But  dull  people  do  not  usually  talk  of  weighty 
matters,  nor  do  active  intellects  dwell  long  on 
trifles.  Therefore  if  we  rightly  choose  our  com¬ 
panion  we  can  conscientiously  leave  our  path  of 
conversation  to  choose  itself. 

One  aspect  of  conversation  remains  to  be 


134 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


treated — its  corrective  power.  ‘  ‘  There  is  a  sort 
of  mental  exposure  in  talking  to  a  companion; 
we  drag  our  thoughts  out  of  their  hiding-places, 
naked  as  it  were,  and  occasionally  we  are  not 
a  little  startled  at  the  exhibition.  Unexpressed 
ideas  are  often  carefully  cherished  until,  placed 
before  other  eyes  as  well  as  our  own,  we  see 
them  as  they  really  are.  ’  ’  ^ 

1 T.  Sharper  Kjiowlson,  The  Art  of  Thinking. 


VII 


01 

I  TinNKING  AND  READING 

"m 

■ 

UP  to  now  I  have  dealt  with  thinking  al¬ 
most  as  if  it  could  be  carried  on  without 
external  aid.  As  with  cautionary  and  con¬ 
structive  thought,  I  have  perhaps  been  led  to  do 
this  because  of  a  reaction  from  the  usual  in¬ 
sistence  upon  reading  as  indispensable  to  men- 
1  tal  improvement,  and  the  corresponding  neglect 
'  of  the  need  for  independent  thinking.  Men 
H  thought  before  there  were  books,  and  men  can 
j  still  think  without  reading,  but  they  cannot 
...  I  was  about  to  remark  that  they  could  not 
I  read  without  thinking,  but  on  second  thought  I 

I  am  inclined  to  doubt  it.  However,  we  have 
1  clung  to  the  natural  order,  for  we  first  consid¬ 
ered  unaided  thinking,  then  the  help  given  by 
conversation  and  dispute,  and  finally  we  are  to 
examine  the  aid  rendered  by  reading.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  this  order  follows  the  de- 


135 


136 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


velopment  of  thought  both  in  the  individual  aiv 
in  the  human  race. 

While  no  complaint  can  be  made  of  lack  o 
quantity  in  what  has  been  written  on  reading 
most  of  it  has  not  taken  up  the  subject  fror 
the  proper  standpoint;  still  less  has  dealt  wit] 
it  in  the  right  manner.  There  has  been  couu 
sel  galore  urging  people  to  read;  and  recentb 
there  has  been  a  great  deal  of  advice  on  what  t( 
read.  But  comparatively  very  little  has  beer 
said  on  how  to  read.  At  one  time  reading  wail 
regarded  an  untainted  virtue,  later  it  was  seei 
that  it  did  us  no  good  unless  we  read  good  books  I 
and  now  there  is  a  dawning  consciousness  thalf 
even  if  we  read  good  books  they  mil  benefit  us 
little  unless  we  read  them  in  the  right  way. 

But  even  where  this  consciousness  has  been 
felt,  little  attempt  has  been  made  to  solve  the 
problem  systematically.  Leisurely  discourses, 
pretty  aphorisms,  and  dogmatic  rules  have  been 
the  forms  in  which  the  question  has  been  dealt 
with.  Such  conflicting  adages  as  “A  good  book 
should  be  read  over  and  over  again”;  and  “The 
art  of  reading  is  the  art  of  skipping,”  are  not 


I 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


137 


I  very  serviceable.  The  necessity  of  some  sort  of 
orderly  treatment  is  evident. 

I  Before  we  consider  how  to  read,  some  queer 
.'  person  may  ask  us  to  put  the  previous  ques- 
I  tion,  “Should  we  read  at  all?”  Now  the  value 
of  reading  has,  in  times  past,  been  seriously 
doubted  by  thinkers  and  non-thinkers.  The 
philosopher  Democritus  put  out  his  eyes  so 
that,  ceasing  to  read,  he  might  think.  We  are 
not  going  to  follow  his  example.  But  we  can 
readily  sympathize  with  him  when  we  think  of 
the  many  learned  men  who  have  read  themselves 
into  dreamy  stupidity;  men  who  know  what 
everybody  else  thought,  but  who  never  have  any 
thoughts  of  their  own.  We  must  admit  that 
the  arguments  of  these  cranks  are  at  least  good 
medicine  for  the  prevalent  belief  that  the  more 
a  man  reads  the  more  he  will  know  and  the  better 
thinker  he  will  become. 

Learning  to  think  by  reading  is  like  learning 
to  draw  by  tracing.  In  each  case  we  make  the 
work  of  another  man  our  basis,  instead  of  ob¬ 
serving  directly  from  Nature.  The  practice  has 
its  value,  it  is  true;  but  no  man  ever  became  a 


138 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


great  artist  by  tracing,  and  no  man  will  ever  be¬ 
come  a  great  thinker  by  reading.  It  can  never 
become  a  substitute  for  thought.  At  best,  as 
John  Locke  says,  “Reading  funhshes  the  mind 
only  with  materials  of  knowledge,  it  is  thinking 
makes  what  we  read  ours.  ”  ^ 

Our  problem  may  be  divided  in  two  parts: 
(1)  What  ratio  should  our  reading  bear  to  in¬ 
dependent  thinking,  and  (2)  how  should  we  read 
when  we  do  read?  ■ 

It  may  be  thought  that  we  can  learn  some- : 
thing  about  the  first  question  by  investigating 
the  practice  of  great  thinkers.  But  the  out-  ' 
come  of  such  an  investigation  is  likely  to  be 
disappointment.  Kant,  for  instance,  was  an 
omnivorous  reader;  so  were  Huxley  and  Sir  i 
William  Hamilton;  and  outside  the  circle  of 
philosophers,  men  as  unlike  as  Gibbon,  Macau¬ 
lay,  Milton  and  Thomas  A.  Edison.  On  the 
other  hand,  Spencer  seldom  ever  read,  and 
Hobbes  is  famous  for  his  remark  that  if  he  had 
read  as  much  as  other  men  he  would  have  known 
as  little.  Auguste  Comte  was  unique  in  that  he 
read  copiously  until  he  conceived  his  Positive 


1  The  Conduct  of  the  Understanding. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


139 


Philosophy,  and  then  hardly  at  all  until  the  end 
of  his  life. 

Even  were  it  found  that  most  great  thinkers 
adhered  to  nearly  the  same  practice,  it  would 
prove  little ;  for  how  could  we  tell  whether  they 
were  good  thinkers  on  account  of,  or  in  spite 
of  it? 

We  can  agree  a  priori,  however,  with  the  re¬ 
mark  of  Schopenhauer  that  “the  safest  way  to 
have  no  thoughts  of  one’s  own  is  to  take  up  a 
book  every  moment  one  has  nothing  else  to  do.  ’  ’ 
And  we  may  agree  with  him  further :  “A  man 
should  read  only  when  his  thoughts  stagnate  at 
their  source,  which  will  happen  often  enough 
even  with  the  best  of  minds.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  take  up  a  book  for  the  purpose  of  scar¬ 
ing  away  one’s  own  original  thoughts  is  a  sin 
against  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  like  running 
away  from  Nature  to  look  at  a  museum  of 
dried  plants,  or  gaze  at  a  landscape  in  copper¬ 
plate.  ’  ’  ^ 

It  would  be  foUy  to  lay  down  any  fixed 
mathematical  ratio  between  the  time  we  should 
devote  to  reading  and  the  time  we  should  give 


2  On  Thinking  for  Oneself. 


140 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


to  thinking.  But  'one  hour  given  to  reading 
plus  one  hour  given  to.  thinking  would  be  cer¬ 
tainly  more  beneficial  than  two  hours  devoted  i 
entirely  to  reading. 

You  can  find  quite  a  number  of  serious-  ' 
minded  men  who  put  by  a  certain  period  each 
day  for  reading.  But  how  many  of  them  put 
by  any  time  at  all  for  thinking?  It  would  be 
unjust  to  say  they  do  not  think.  But  at  best 
their  thinking  is  merely  accidental — and  ap-  | 
parently  considered  so.  Surely  it  is  as  impor¬ 
tant  that  we  lay  aside  a  definite  period  each 
day  for  thinking  as  it  is  that  we  lay  aside  some 
time  for  reading.  But  how  much  this  time 
should  be  and  whether  it  should  bear  any  spe¬ 
cific  ratio  to  the  time  given  to  reading  can  best 
be  decided  after  a  consideration  of  the  problem 
of  how  to  read. 

This  problem  has  unfortunately  been  much 
misconceived.  Those  who  have  laid  stress  on 
the  maxim,  “A  good  book  should  be  read  over 
and  over  again,”  have  done  so  in  the  belief 
that  this  is  the  best  way  to  get  the  most  out 
of  a  particular  book.  But  the  object  of  read¬ 
ing  is  not  to  get  the  best  out  of  any  one  book. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


141 


but  out  of  reading  in  general.  A  realization  of 
this  end  wiU  change  our  problem  somewhat. 

It  will  bring  us  to  a  consideration,  for  exam¬ 
ple,  of  the  law  of  diminishing  returns.  While 
the  more  we  re-read  a  book  the  more  we  get  out 
of  it,  it  must  be  remembered  that  with  a  few 
possible  exceptions,  every  time  we  re-read  it 
we  add  less  to  our  knowledge  than  we  did  the 
previous  time.  This  means  that  we  can  usually 
make  much  faster  progress  by  reading  other 
books,  in  which  case  we  do  not  merely  read  over 
what  we  already  know  for  the  most  part. 
Whether  re-reading  is  ever  justified,  and  when, 
is  a  question  which  will  be  considered  a  little 
later. 

The  law  of  diminishing  returns  applies  to  an 
entire  subject  as  well  as  to  a  single  book.  That 
is  to  say,  past  a  certain  point,  every  book  we 
read  on  a  particular  subject,  while  it  will  prob¬ 
ably  add  to  our  knowledge,  will  not  yield  as 
much  return  as  a  book  of  equal  merit  on  another 
subject,  new  to  us. 

The  problem  of  reading  asks  how  we  can  ac¬ 
quire  the  greatest  number  of  ideas,  and  how 
we  can  arrive  at  truth  rather  than  the  verdict 


142 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


of  an  author.  It  assumes  a  limited  time  and||ti)l 
asks  how  we  can  use  that  time  most  profitably, 
Not  least  of  all,  it  asks  how  we  can  best  com-  i  d 
bine  our  reading  with  original  thought.  w 

From  the  remarks  already  made,  it  is  evident  to 
that  we  cannot  prescribe  any  one  method  for  I 
dealing  with  aU  books.  Even  works  of  similar  ^  I 
nature  and  merit  will  be  treated  in  ditferent 
ways,  depending  on  the  order  in  which  we  read 
them,  and  like  conditions.  The  mastery  of  any 
book  will  not  be  an  end  in  itself.  It  will  be  i 
subordinated  to  the  larger  end  of  obtaining  the 
best  from  reading  as  a  whole.  But  for  the  sake  ' 
of  clearness,  I  shall  for  the  present  consider 
our  end  as  the  mastery  of  some  particular  sub¬ 
ject,  and  shall  indicate  a  plan  of  reading  to  best 
serve  that  end.  Needful  qualifications  will 
come  later. 

I  shall  first  outline  a  typical  plan  of  study, 
and  then  review  and  explain  it  in  detail. 

Assuming  you  have  chosen  a  subject,  your 
first  step  should  be  to  do  a  little  unaided  think¬ 
ing  on  it.  Next  I  would  advise  the  selection 
of  a  comprehensive  text  book.  This  should  be 
read  critically  and  written  note  made  of  the 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


143 


problems  taken  up  which  you  do  not  believe 
have  been  adequately  treated,  or  the  solutions 
of  which  are  in  any  way  unsatisfactory.  These 
you  should  think  out  for  yourself.  A  second 
book  may  in  some  cases  be  read  in  the  same 
thorough  manner  as  this  first  one,  and  the  prob¬ 
lems  recorded  in  the  same  way.  After  that  all 
books  on  that  subject  may  be  read  “hop,  skip 
and  jump”  fashion,  for  the  new  problems  or 
solutions  they  suggest. 

I  do  not  expect  the  foregoing  plan  to  be 
strictly  adhered  to,  for  the  nature  of  the  sub¬ 
ject  studied  will  make  certain  changes  necessary. 
However,  it  demands  more  detailed  explanation 
and  perhaps  defense. 

Let  us  take  up  the  first  step  advised — giving  a 
little  unaided  thought  to  the  subject.  My  only 
reason  for  advising  “a  little”  thinking,  is  that  I 
know  if  I  asked  more  the  reader  would  probably 
do  nothing  at  all.  Indeed  many  readers  will 
fail  to  see  the  necessity  of  thinking  about  a  sub¬ 
ject  before  studying  it.  Many  may  even  ques¬ 
tion  the  possibility  of  doing  so.  ‘  ‘  How  is  a  man 
to  think  about  a  subject  on  which  he  knows  noth¬ 
ing!”  you  ask.  Let  us,  however,  consider. 


144 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


The  very  fact  that  you  want  to  study  a  sub¬ 
ject  implies  that  the  phenomena  with  which  it 
deals  are  not  clear  to  you.  You  desire  to  study 
economics,  for  instance,  because  you  feel  that 
you  do  not  understand  everything  you  should 
about  the  production,  distribution  and  consump¬ 
tion  of  wealth.  In  other  words,  something 
about  these  phenomena  puzzles  you — you  have 
some  unsolved  problems.  Very  well.  These 
problems  are  your  materials.  Try  to  solve 
them.  ' 

‘  ‘  But  how  can  I  s’olve  them  when  I  know  noth¬ 
ing  of  economics  1  ’  ’ 

•Kindly  consider  what  a  science  is.  A  science 
is  nothing  more  than  the  organized  solution  of 
a  number  of  related  problems.  These  problems 
and  their  answers  have  been  changed  and  added 
to  the  ages  through.  But  when  the  science  first 
started  there  was  no  literature  on  it.  It  origin¬ 
ated  from  the  attempts  of  men  to  solve  those 
problems  which  spontaneously  occurred  to  them. 
Before  they  started  thinking  these  men  knew 
nothing  of  the  science.  The  men  who  came  after 
them  availed  themselves  of  the  thoughts  of  those 
before,  and  added  to  these.  The  whole  process 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


145 


has  been  one  of  thought  added  to  thought. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  people  still  chng  to  the  be¬ 
lief,  even  if  they  do  not  openly  avow  it,  that  we 
never  can  malve  any  headway  by  thinking,  but 
that  in  order  to  be  educated,  or  cultured,  or  to 
have  any  knowledge,  we  must  be  reading,  read¬ 
ing,  reading.^ 

I  almost  blush  for  this  elaborate  defense. 
Everybody  will  admit  the  necessity  for  thinking 
— in  the  abstract.  But  how  do  we  regard  it  in 
the  concrete?  Wlien  we  see  a  man  reading  a 
good  book,  we  think  of  him  as  educating  him¬ 
self.  When  we  perceive  a  man  without  a  book, 
even  though  we  may  happen  to  know  that  he  is 
engaged  in  reflection,  we  do  not  look  upon  him 
as  educating  himself,  though  we  may  regard  him 
as  intelligent.  In  short,  our  habitual  idea  of 
thought  is  that  it  is  a  process  of  reviewing  what 
we  already  know,  but  not  of  adding  anything  to 
our  knowledge.  Of  course  no  one  would  openly 

3  This  may  seem  unjustified.  Witness,  however,  this  re¬ 
markable  statement  in  a  prospectus  of  Charles  Eliot’s  “Five 
Foot  Shelf”:  “  .  .  .  The  man  who  has  not  read  the  ‘Wealth 
of, Nations’  is  hardly  qualified  to  speak  or  even  think  wisely 
on  these  vital  subjects.”  If  this  be  true,  Adam  Smith  him¬ 
self  was  hardly  qualified  because  he  certainly  could  not  have 
read  his  own  book  before  he  had  written  it! 


146 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


avow  this  opinion,  but  it  is  the  conunon  acting  i 
belief  none  the  less.  The  objections  to  thoughi 
are  inarticulate  and  half-conscions.  I  am  try¬ 
ing  to  make  them  articulate  in  order  to  answer 
them. 

To  return,  then,  to  the  remark  that  we  should 
use  as  materials  for  unaided  thinking  the  prob¬ 
lems  which  occur  spontaneously.  You  will  find 
when  you  begin  to  solve  these  that  other  prob¬ 
lems  will  arise,  and  that  up  to  a  certain  point, 
the  deeper  you  go  into  a  subject — ^the  more 
critical  you  are  in  your  thinking — ^the  more 
problems  will  occur.  Perhaps  it  would  be  too 
much  to  ask  you  to  solve  all  of  these.  Yet  even 
a  little  of  this  preliminary  thinking  will  be  of 
immense  help  in  reading.  It  will  give  you  a  far 
better  sense  of  the  importance  of  different  prob¬ 
lems  which  a  book  considers,  and  you  will  not 
judge  their  significance  merely  by  the  space  it 
devotes  to  them.  An  author  may  indeed  bring 
before  us  certain  problems  which  had  not  hith¬ 
erto  occurred,  and  stimulate  in  us  a  sense  of 
their  importance.  But  this  artificial  stimula¬ 
tion  can  never  take  the  place  of  natural  and 
spontaneous  wonder.  Once  we  have  obtained  a 


tf 

!1 

■ 

f 

I 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


147 


solution  of  a  problem  which  has  arisen  spon¬ 
taneously  and  from  within,  we  do  not  easily  for¬ 
get  it.  Our  independent  thinking,  too,  will  have 
given  us  an  idea  of  the  difficulties  presented  by 
problems,  and  will  make  us  more  critical  in 
reading  and  more  appreciative  of  the  solutions 
of  an  author.  Not  least  of  all,  if  we  read  first 
we  are  extremely  liable  to  fall  into  the  routine 
and  traditional  ways  of  considering  a  subject, 
whereas  if  we  first  think,  we  are  more  likely  in 
our  insophistication  to  hit  upon  an  idea  of  real 
originality. 

One  last  objection  to  thinking  before  reading 
remains.  Schopenhauer  has  answered  it  in  his 
forcible  manner: 

“A  man  may  have  discovered  some  portion 
of  truth  or  wisdom  after  spending  a  great  deal 
of  time  and  trouble  in  thinking  it  over  for  him¬ 
self,  adding  thought  to  thought;  and  it  may 
sometimes  happen  that  he  could  have  found  it 
all  ready  to  hand  in  a  book  and  spared  himself 
the  trouble.  But  even  so  it  is  a  hundred  times 
more  valuable,  for  he  has  acquired  it  by  think¬ 
ing  it  out  for  himself.  For  it  is  only  when  we 
gain  our  knowledge  in  this  way  that  it  enters 


148 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


as  an  integral  part,  a  living  member,  into  the  I 
whole  system  of  our  thought;  that  it  stands  in  i 
complete  and  firm  relation  with  what  we  know,  ^ 
that  it  is  understood  with  all  that  underlies  it 
and  follows  from  it,  that  it  wears  the  color,  the  i 
precise  shade,  the  distingniishing  mark,  of  our 
ovTi  way  of  thinking,  that  it  comes  exactly  at  the  | 
right  time,  just  as  we  felt  the  need  for  it ;  that 
it  stands  fast  and  cannot  be  forgotten.”  ^ 

Despite  the  strong  case  that  Schopenhauer  ' 
makes  out,  I  am  satisfied  with  my  former  advice 
— that  a  little  thinking  will  suffice.  Not  only  be¬ 
cause,  as  already  said,  the  reader  will  probably 
do  nothing  if  advised  to  do  more;  but  because 
after  a  certain  amount  of  thinking  has  been 
done,  it  is  more  profitable  to  avail  ourselves  of 
the  wisdom  of  the  ages,  stored  in  books,  and  to 
do  our  thinking  after  we  have  acquired  the  main 
outlines  of  this  wisdom.  For  Avhen  we  think  a 
problem  out,  with  the  feeling  that  even  after  we 
have  obtained  a  solution  we  shall  probably  find 
it  in  a  book  later,  we  have  not  the  incentive  that 
we  have  when  we  feel  we  have  covered  most  of 

4  Essay  On  Thinking  for  Oneself. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


149 


the  old  ground  and  that  thinking  may  bring  us 
into  new  territory. 

The  practice  of  Gibbon  remains  to  be  consid¬ 
ered  :  ‘  ‘  After  glancing  my  eye  over  the  design 

and  order  of  a  new  book,  I  suspended  the  per¬ 
usal  until  I  had  finished  the  task  of  self-examina¬ 
tion;  till  I  had  revolved  in  a  solitary  walk  all 
that  I  knew  or  believed,  or  had  thought  on  the 
subject  of  the  whole  work,  or  of  some  particular 
chapter.  I  was  then  qualified  to  discern  how 
much  the  author  added  to  my  original  stock,  and 
I  was  sometimes  satisfied  by  the  agreement, 
sometimes  armed  by  the  opposition  of  our 
ideas.’’  ® 

The  trouble  with  this  method  is  that  it  is  not 
critical  enough;  that  is,  critical  in  the  proper 
sense.  It  almost  amounts  to  making  sure  what 
your  prejudices  are,  and  then  taking  care  to  use 
them  as  spectacles  through  which  to  read.  We 
always  do  judge  a  book  more  or  less  by  our  pre¬ 
vious  prejudices  and  opinions.  We  cannot  help 
it.  But  our  justification  lies  in  the  manner  we 
have  obtained  these  opinions ;  whether  we  have 


6  Autobiography. 


150 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


infected  them  from  our  environment,  or  have: 
held  them  because  we  wanted  them  to  be  true,  or’ 
have  arrived  at  them  from  substantial  evidence, 
and  sound  reasoning.  If  Gibbon  had  taken  a 
critical  attitude  toward  his  former  knowledge 
and  opinions  to  make  sure  they  were  correct, 
and  had  then  applied  them  to  his  reading,  his 
course  would  have  been  more  justifiable  and 
profitable. 

In  certain  subjects,  however.  Gibbon’s  is  the 
only  method  which  can  with  profit  be  used.  In ; 
the  study  of  geography,  grammar,  a  foreign,  ' 
language,  or  the  facts  of  history,  it  is  weU,  be-  ' 
fore  reading,  simply  to  review  what  we  already  ^ 
know.  Here  we  cannot  be  critical  because  there 
is  really  nothing  to  reason  about.  Whether 
George  Washington  ought  to  have  crossed  the 
Delaware,  whether  “shall”  and  “will”  ought  to  ' 
be  used  as  they  are  in  English,  whether  the  verb 
“avoir”  ought  to  be  parsed  as  it  is,  or  whether 
Hoboken  ought  to  be  in  New  Jersey,  are  ques¬ 
tions  which  might  reasonably  be  asked,  but 
which  would  be  needless,  because  for  the  pur¬ 
poses  we  would  most  likely  have  in  mind  in  read¬ 
ing  such  facts  it  would  be  sufficient  to  know  that 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


151 


these  things  are  so.  We  might  include  mathe¬ 
matics  among  the  subjects  to  be  treated  in  this 
fashion.  Though  it  is  a  rational  science,  there 
is  such  unanimity  regarding  its  propositions 
that  the  critical  attitude  is  almost  a  waste  of 
mental  energy.  In  mathematics,  to  understand 
is  to  agree.  ^ 

We  come  to  the  second  step  outlined  in  our 
plan  of  study — the  selection  of  a  comprehen¬ 
sive  text  book. 

Every  large  subject  has  gathered  about  it  a 
vast  literature,  more  than  one  man  can  ever 
hope  to  cover  completely.  This  literature  may 
be  said  to  consist  wholly  of  two  things:  infor¬ 
mation  as  to  facts,  and  opinions  on  those  facts. 
In  other  words,  any  book  you  read  on  that  sub¬ 
ject  will  probably  contain  some  facts  new  to  you 
and  wiU  contain  also  the  thoughts  and  reflec¬ 
tions  of  the  author.  Of  course  you  should  en¬ 
deavor  to  learn  as  many  facts  as  possible.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  know  all  that  has  been 
thought  about  the  subject.  You  are  supposed 
to  have  a  mind  of  your  own ;  you  are  supposed 
to  do  some  thinking  for  yourself.  But  though 


152 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


it  is  not  necessary  that  you  know  all  that  has 
been  thought,  it  is  well  that  you  know  at  leas' 
part  of  what  has  been  thought,  and  so  far  as 
possible,  the  best  part.  For  as  just  pointed  out] 
if  you  attempt  to  think  out  an  entire  subject  foi  ] 
yourself  you  will  expend  great  energy  and  tim(  i 
in  arriving  at  conclusions  which  have  probablj 
already  been  arrived  at  during  the  generations 
that  the  subject  has  had  its  being.  Therefore 
you  should  endeavor  to  get,  in  as  short  a  time 
as  possible,  the  greatest  number  of  important 
facts  and  the  main  outlines  of  the  best  that  has 
been  thought. 

So  if  you  sincerely  intend  to  master  any  sub¬ 
ject,  the  best  way  to  begin  is  by  the  selection  of 
the  most  comprehensive  and  authoritative  worlj 
you  can  secure. 

The  man  who  desires  to  study  any  subject  is 
commonly  advised  to  read  first  a  small  “intro¬ 
ductory”  book,  then  a  larger  one,  and  finally  the 
largest  and  most  authoritative  volumes.  The 
trouble  with  this  practice  is  that  you  will  have  to 
study  each  book  in  turn.  If  you  take  up  the 
most  thorough  book  first  you  need  merely  glance 
through  the  smaller  books,  for  the  chances  are 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


153 


that  they  will  contain  little  that  is  new  to  you, 
unless  they  happen  to  be  more  recent.  The  only 
justification  for  reading  a  small  book  first  is  that 
the  larger  books  are  apt  to  be  technical  and  to 
assume  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  subject. 
However,  the  authoritative  treatise  or  treatises 
on  a  subject  usually  refer  far  less  to  the  smaller 
books  than  the  smaller  books  do  to  them.  .\ny 
greater  depth  of  thought  which  the  larger  works 
may  possess  can  be  made  up  for  by  increased 
concentration  on  the  part  of  the  reader.  Of 
course  if  a  man  does  not  intend  to  master  a  sub¬ 
ject  thoroughly,  but  only  to  get  some  idea  of  its 
broad  outlines,  the  case  is  different.  He  would 
then  be  justified  in  reading  a  small  work. 

Another  advantage  of  beginning  a  subject 
with  the  study  of  a  comprehensive  and  authori¬ 
tative  volume  or  main  textbook,  is  that  you 
avoid  confusion.  The  man  who  has  mastered 
one  foreign  language,  say  French,  will  always 
find  his  knowledge  of  great  benefit  to  him  For  the 
study  of  another  language,  such  as  Spanish. 
But  any  one  who  has  begun  at  about  the  same 
time  the  study  of  two  or  more  foreign  languages 
must  remember  his  confusion,  and  how  his  vagne 


154 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


knowledge  of  one  tongue  liindered  him  in  the  i 
acquisition  of  the  other. 

So  with  reading.  When  we  peruse  a  book  in 
the  usual  casual  way  we  do  not  master  it.  And 
when  we  read  a  hook  on  the  same  subject  imme-  ■ 
diately  after  it,  the  different  viewpoint  is  liable 
to  cause  bewilderment  and  make  us  worse  off 
than  before  the  second  book  was  started.  We 
do  not  like  to  devote  a  lot  of  time  to  one  book, 
but  would  rather  run  through  several  books  in 
the  same  time,  believing  that  we  thereby  gain 
more  ideas.  We  are  just  as  mistaken  as  a  be¬ 
ginner  in  sAvimming  who  would  attempt  to  learn 
several  strokes  before  having  mastered  one  well 
enough  to  keep  afloat. 

A  main  text  being  of  such  importance,  its 
choice  involves  responsibility.  But  how  are  we 
to  know  whether  one  book  is  superior  to  another 
until  we  haA^e  read  both?  And  if  we  are  con¬ 
fronted  AAuth  this  difficulty  even  when  familiar 
with  a  subject,  how  much  greater  must  be  our 
task  Avhen  we  know  nothing  of  it?  These  diffi¬ 
culties  do  not  appear  so  formidable  in  practice. 

Failing  other  means,  the  best  method  of  se¬ 
lecting  a  main  text  is  by  reputation.  If  we  do 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


155 


not  even  know  what  book  has  the  best  reputa¬ 
tion,  we  can  easily  find  out  by  referring  to  so 
acknowledged  an  authority  as  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica,  and  consulting  the  bibliography  in 
the  article  on  the  subject. 

But  reputation  does  not  furnish  the  only 
means  of  selecting.  By  merely  glancing 
through  a  book,  stopping  here  and  there  to  read 
entire  paragraphs — a  task  of  ten  or  fifteen  min¬ 
utes — we  can  form  an  estimate  which  later  read¬ 
ing  will  usually  justify.  For  an  author  betrays 
himself  in  every  line  he  writes;  every  slightest 
remark  reveals  in  some  manner  the  breadth  and 
depth  of  his  thought.  But  just  how  well  we  can 
judge  a  book  in  this  way  depends  both  on  our 
own  ability  and  on  the  time  we  devote  to  glanc¬ 
ing  through  it. 

A  few  general  requirements  in  a  main  text 
have  been  implied  in  stating  the  purpose  of  hav¬ 
ing  one.  The  book  with  the  best  reputation  is 
not  necessarily  the  best  for  you.  In  economics 
Adam  Smith’s  Wealth  of  Nations,  though  easily 
the  most  famous  book  on  the  subject,  would 
hardly  be  suitable  as  a  main  text  because  it  has 
been  superseded.  But  though  recency  is  always 


156 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


an  asset,  this  does  not  mean  that  the  most  recent  J 
book  is  always  or  even  usually  the  best.  The  I 
common  idea,  though  it  is  usually  but  vaguely  • 
formulated,  is  that  the  writer  of  the  more  recent  ’ 
book  has  had  all  the  previous  books  to  draw 
upon,  and  has  therefore  been  able  to  extract  the 
best  from  all  of  them  and  add  to  this  his  own 
thoughts.  The  fallacy  of  this  has  been  pointed  ii 
out  in  the  trenchant  language  of  Schopenhauer : 

“The  writer  of  the  new  book  often  does  not 
understand  the  old  books  thoroughly,  and  yet  i 
he  is  unwilling  to  take  their  exact  words ;  so  he  ^ 
bungles  them  and  says  in  his  own  bad  way  that  i 
which  has  been  said  very  much  better  and  more 
clearly  by  the  old  writers,  who  wrote  from  their 
own  lively  knowledge  of  the  subject.  The  new 
writer  frequently  omits  the  best  things  they  say, 
their  most  striking  illustrations,  their  happiest  , 
remarks,  because  he  does  not  see  their  value  or 
feel  how  pregnant  they  are.  The  only  thing 
that  appeals  to  him  is  what  is  shallow  and  in¬ 
sipid.  ’  ’ 

The  value  of  recency  will  depend  on  the  sub¬ 
ject;  while  it  would  be  essential  in  aviation,  its 
importance  would  be  far  less  in  ethics. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


157 


It  is  not  well  to  take  as  your  main  text  a  book 
presenting  a  number  of  different  and  conflicting 
viewpoints.  One  purpose  of  a  main  text  is  to 
avoid  confusion.  Do  not  start  the  study  of 
psychology,  for  instance,  by  reading  a  history  of 
the  subject  giving  the  views  of  different  think¬ 
ers.  Begin  by  taking  up  one  definite  system. 

Finally,  be  sure  to  select  a  book  covering  the 
entire  field.  Do  not,  for  instance,  take  a  volume 
on  the  tariff  to  begin  the  study  of  economics. 

We  pass  now  to  the  third  step  advised — to 
read  critically.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  we 
should  read  skeptically  or  to  confute  everything 
an  author  says.  I  mean  simply  that  we  should 
resist  our  natural  tendency  to  have  our  minds 
swayed  by  every  opinion  he  expresses.  I  mean 
that  before  allowing  an  idea  to  slip  into  our 
minds  we  should  first  challenge  its  truth ;  we 
should  examine  its  evidence. 

Perhaps  you  have  listened  to  a  debate.  After 
the  affirmative  had  made  his  impassioned  plea 
you  were  all  for  the  affirmative.  When  the 
negative  came  forward  and  presented  his  case, 
you  found  yourself  favoring  him.  .  .  .  Wliy  do 


158 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


debaters  always  try  to  get  the  last  say?  Why  •  ^ 
is  it  that  in  a  formal  debate,  the  affirmative,  '  , 
which  usually  has  the  last  say,  is  most  often  the 
side  that  wins?  I  could  state  the  reason  ^ 
bluntly.  But  if  I  did  the  honorable  judges  of  ; 
such  controversies  would  not  feel  that  their 
critical  powers  had  been  complimented. 

The  tendency  to  absorb  the  opinions  of  others  ! 
manifests  itself  to  just  as  great  a  degree  in  read-  | 
ing.  I  have  held  debating  up  as  an  example 
merely  because  it  brings  out  more  strongly, 
more  strikingly,  the  effects  of  such  a  tendency. 
But  how  can  it  be  resisted? 

If  we  have  thought  out  a  subject  thoroughly, 
if  we  have  acquired  a  stock  of  clear  and  definite 
ideas  on  it,  criticism  in  reading  will  largely  take 
care  of  itself.  By  dint  of  our  own  thinking  we 
will  know  what  is  relevant  and  what  is  not;  we 
shall  be  able  to  judge  the  truth  and  importance 
of  the  various  arguments  offered.  The  chances 
are,  however,  that  we  shall  not  have  given  much 
previous  thinking  to  the  subject,  and  that  even 
if  we  have  we  shall  not  have  gone  as  far  as  the 
author,  who  doubtless  availed  himself  of  other 
books.  Consequently  certain  problems  which 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


159 


he  takes  up  will  not  even  have  occurred  to  us, 
and  hence  will  not  have  received  our  considera¬ 
tion. 

But  where  our  thinking  has  not  helped  us,  and 
even  where  it  has,  we  should  look  critically  upon 
every  statement  of  an  author,  instead  of  lazily 
acquiescing  in  it.  The  difference  between 
critical  and  ordinary  reading,  is  that  in  the  for¬ 
mer  we  look  for  objections,  in  the  latter  we  wait 
until  they  happen  to  occur  to  us.  Even  then  we 
do  not  hold  our  objections  steadily  in  mind ;  we 
are  as  likely  as  not  to  accept  later  arguments 
based  upon  one  we  have  previously  objected  to. 
In  order  to  avoid  this  perhaps  the  best  we  can 
do  when  we  object  to  any  statement  or  believe 
we  have  found  a  fallacy,  is  to  make  written  note 
of  it  in  the  margin.  To  some  extent  this  will 
prevent  forgetting  it.  Too  few  or  too  many 
marginal  notes  are  both  extremes  to  be  shunned. 
If  we  make  too  many  we  shall  be  apt  to  lose  a 
true  sense  of  proportion  and  fail  to  distinguish 
essential  criticisms  from  nonessentials.  The 
only  way  we  can  keep  clear  of  this  extreme  is  to 
avoid  quibbling  and  hair-splitting,  making  only 
such  written  criticisms  as  we  feel  we  could  un- 


160 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


blusliingly  defend  before  the  author  himself. 
Often  however  we  may  feel  that  a  statement  is 
untrue,  or  that  an  argument  is  fallacious,  and 
yet  be  unable  to  point  out  just  where  or  how  it 
is  so.  In  this  case  perhaps  the  best  plan  would 
be  merely  to  put  a  question  mark  in  the  margin 
in  order  to  remind  ourselves  that  the  statement 
has  not  been  fully  accepted. 

We  ought  to  make  sure  what  we  object  to  be¬ 
cause  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  human  mind  that 
it  does  not  require  evidence  for  a  statement  be¬ 
fore  accepting  it ;  it  generally  accepts  any  state¬ 
ment  which  has  no  evidence  against  it.  Unless 
we  reject  a  statement  and  know  why  we  have 
done  so,  it  is  liable  to  insinuate  itself  in  our  rea¬ 
soning,  and  the  longer  it  remains  the  more  diffi¬ 
cult  it  is  to  get  rid  of  it.  This  is  why  it  is  so 
important  to  avoid  as  many  pitfalls  as  possible 
at  the  beginning  of  a  subject. 

The  reader  may  find  that  even  when  he  reads 
critically  he  will  accept  a  certain  statement  at 
the  time;  and  then  perhaps  much  later,  say  a 
month,  an  objection  to  that  statement  will  occur 
to  him,  or  he  will  see  that  it  at  least  ought  to 
be  qualified.  For  an  explanation  of  this  we 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


161 


must  go  back  to  an  analysis  of  the  thinking 
process.  Every  idea  which  enters  the  mind, 
:  either  from  independent  thinking  or  from  read- 
•  ing,  IS  accepted  as  true  if  it  is  in  full  conformity 
with  our  past  experience  as  we  remember  it. 
In  all  thinking  or  reading,  the  new  idea  arouses 
associates  on  its  entrance.  An  hypothesis  or 
principle,  for  instance,  arouses  in  our  minds 
past  experiences  of  particular  instances.  If  all 
these  conform  it  is  accepted.  But  in  ordinary 
uncritical  reading  or  thinking,  only  a  few  asso¬ 
ciates  are  aroused.  In  critical  reading,  we  look 
for  as  many  associates  as  possible,  especially 
those  which  do  not  conform.  It  is  this  purpose 
kept  in  mind  which  helps  to  recall  and  awaken 
these  associates.  No  matter  how  critical  our 
attitude,  however,  we  cannot  at  any  given  time 
recall  every  relevant  associate,  though  later  a 
“non-conforming”  associate  is  likely  to  occur 
to  us  by  pure  accident. 

While  you  are  criticising  a  book  line  by  line, 
and  after  you  have  finished  reading  it,  you 
should  note  the  importance  and  relevancy  of  the 
arguments  accepted  and  rejected.  While  an 
author  may  make  a  statement  with  which  you 


162 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


disagree,  its  truth  or  falsehood  may  not  affect  i 
the  rest  of  what  he  has  to  say,  or  it  may  affect  r 
merely  a  few  corollaries  dra^vn  from  it.  In 
other  cases  the  truth  of  his  entire  conclusion  r 
may  depend  upon  it.  Again,  an  author  may  in- 
controvertihly  prove  something — which  is  en-  1 
tirely  without  bearing  on  the  subject.  This  i 
means  that  you  should  keep  the  precise  ques¬ 
tion  constantly  before  your  mind. 

Often  you  will  find  an  author  making  a  state¬ 
ment  which  really  amounts  to  nothing  more  than 
a  mere  airing  of  his  prejudices,  or  at  best  the 
bare  statement  of  a  conclusion.  If  he  says, 

‘  ‘  Socialism  is  the  greatest  menace  of  our  civili¬ 
zation,”  and  leaves  it  go  at  that,  not  telling  how 
or  why,  you  should  mentally  note  this  as  a  state¬ 
ment,  as  a  statement  merely;  you  should  not 
allow  it  to  influence  your  opinion  either  way. 
Finally,  remember  that  though  you  may  be  able 
to  refute  every  argument  an  author  brings  for¬ 
ward  in  support  of  a  conclusion,  his  conclusion 
may  still  be  correct.  It  is  possible  for  a  man 
to  be  right  for  the  wrong  reasons. 

While  I  believe  all  the  foregoing  suggestions 
are  judicious  and  necessary,  I  am  willing  to  ad^ 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


163 


mit  that  their  wisdom  may  reasonably  be 
doubted.  But  there  is  one  practice  about  which 
there  can  be  no  controversy — that  of  making 
sure  you  thoroughly  understand  every  idea  of  an 
author.  While  most  people  will  not  verbally 
contradict  this  advice,  their  actual  practice  may 
be  a  continual  contradiction  of  it.  They  will  be 
in  such  haste  to  finish  a  book  that  they  will  not 
stop  to  make  sure  they  really  understand  the^ 
more  difficult  or  obscure  passages.  Just  what  • 
they  hope  to  gain  it  is  difficult  to  say.  If  they 
think  it  is  wasting  time  to  try  to  understand 
every  idea,  it  is  surely  a  greater  waste  of  time 
to  read  an  idea  without  understanding  it.  To 
be  sure,  the  difficulty  of  understanding  may  be 
the  fault  of  the  author.  It  may  be  due  to  his 
involved  and  muddled  way  of  expressing  him¬ 
self.  It  may  be  the  vagueness  of  the  idea  itself. 
But  if  anything  this  is  all  the  greater  reason 
why  you  should  attempt  to  understand  it.  It  is 
the  only  way  you  can  find  whether  or  not  the 
author  himself  really  knew  what  he  was  talking 
about.  To  understand  thoroughly  the  thought 
of  another  does  not  necessarily  mean  to  sym¬ 
pathize  with  it ;  it  does  not  mean  to  ask  how  that 


164 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


4 


other  came  by  it.  It  means  merely  to  substitute 
as  far  as  possible  concrete  mental  images  for 
the  words  he  uses,  and  analyze  those  images  to 
discover  to  what  extent  they  agree  with  facts. 

Better  to  carry  this  out,  you  might  follow  an¬ 
other  practice  of  immense  value.  Whenever 
you  are  puzzled  as  to  an  author’s  meaning,  or 
whenever  you  do  not  care  to  accept  his  solution 
of  a  problem  but  are  undecided  as  to  what  the 
solution  is,  or  whenever  you  want  to  carry  an 
idea  further  than  he  has,  or  above  all,  whenever 
an  original  and  important  relevant  thought  is 
suggested  to  you,  you  should  take  your  eyes 
from  your  book — shut  it  if  necessary — and  let  ■ 
your  thinking  flow  on ;  give  it  fair  play,  even  if 
it  takes  an  hour  before  your  vein  of  suggested 
thought  exhausts  itself.  Of  course  this  prac¬ 
tice  will  prevent  you  from  finishing  a  book  as 
soon  as  you  otherwise  would.  And  if  finishing 
a  book  be  your  aim,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  But 
if  your  end  is  to  attain  true,  sound  knowledge, 
knowledge  which  you  will  retain;  if  your  object 
is  to  become  a  thinker,  the  practice  will  prove  of 
unspeakable  benefit.  It  will  not  interfere  vfith 
concentration.  Remember  your  object  is  to  con- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


165 


centrate  primarily  on  the  subject,  not  on  the 
book ;  you  intend  to  become  a  thinker,  not  an  in¬ 
terpreter  or  a  commentator  or  a  disciple  of  any 
author. 

And  there  are  two  reasons  why  this  thinking 
should  not  be  put  off  until  after  you  have 
finished  a  book.  The  first  and  more  important 
is  that  after  you  have  finished  reading,  most  of 
the  ideas  will  have  unrecallably  dropped  out  of 
mind.  The  second  is  that  when  you  are  unde¬ 
cided  about  the  solution  of  a  problem,  you  will 
often  find  later  arguments  depending  upon  that 
solution.  Unless  its  truth  or  falsity  is  decided 
ill  your  own  mind  you  will  not  know  how  to  deal 
with  these  later  arguments. 

I  have  spoken  of  feeling  that  an  argument  is 
fallacious,  and  of  being  unable  to  point  out  just 
where  it  is  so.  To  cease  reading  for  a  while, 
and  to  endeavor  to  make  these  inarticulate  ob¬ 
jections  articulate,  is  excellent  practice  for  train¬ 
ing  analytic  powers  and  developing  clearness  of 
thought. 

Another  way  of  reading  a  book  is  what  I 
may  call  the  anticipating  method.  Whenever 
f  writer  has  started  to  explain  something,  or 


166 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


whenever  yon  see  that  he  is  about  to,  stop  read-l||jj 
ing  and  try  to  think  out  the  explanation  forT,| 
yourself.  Sometimes  such  thinking  will  antici- : 
pate  only  a  paragraph,  at  other  times  an  entire '  ^ 
chapter.  School  and  college  text-books,  and  in 
fact  formal  text-books  generally,  often  contain 
lists  of  questions  at  the  end  of  the  chapters. 
Where  you  find  these,  read  them  before  you  read 
the  chapter,  and  where  possible  try  to  answer 
them  by  your  own  thinking.  This  practice  will 
make  you  understand  an  explanation  much  more 
easily.  If  your  thinking  agrees  with  the  au-  : 
thor’s  explanation  it  will  give  you  self-confi¬ 
dence.  It  will  make  you  realize  whether  or  not 
you  understand  an  explanation.  If  you  were 
not  able  to  think  the  thing  out  for  yourself  you 
will  appreciate  the  author’s  explanation.  If 
your  thinking  disagrees  with  that  of  the  author 
you  will  have  an  opportunity  to  correct  him — 
or  be  corrected.  In  either  case  your  opinion 
will  rest  on  firmer  grounds.  Not  least  of  all 
you  will  be  getting  practice  in  self -thinking. 

After  reading  and  criticising  a  book,  it  is  a 
good  practice  to  study  one  taking  a  different 
viewpoint,  or  written  even  in  direct  oppositioii, 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


167 


You  will  doubtless  find  that  it  points  out  many 
fallacies  and  controverts  many  statements  in  the 
first  book,  which  you  allowed  to  pass  unchal¬ 
lenged.  Ask  yourself  what  the  trouble  was. 
Was  your  attitude  too  receptive  ?  Did  you  swal¬ 
low  words  without  substituting  clear  mental 
images?  Did  you  fail  to  trace  out  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  a  statement?  All  these  questions 
will  help  you  do  better  the  next  time. 

Because  of  your  ignorance  of  the  facts,  your 
failure  to  refute  a  conclusion  will  sometimes 
not  be  your  fault.  But  even  here,  though  you 
cannot  contradict  an  author’s  statement  of  facts, 
you  can  criticise  conclusions  drawn  from  those 
facts. 

Take  an  instance.  In  making  an  inquiry  into 
the  causes  of  fatigue,  Professor  Mosso  of  Turin 
selected  two  dogs  as  nearly  alike  as  possible. 
One  he  kept  tied,  and  the  other  he  exercised  until 
it  was  thoroughly  tired.  He  then  transfused 
blood  of  the  tired  dog  into  the  veins  of  the  rested 
one,  and  produced  in  the  latter  every  sign  of 
fatigue.  From  this  he  concluded  that  fatigue 
was  due  to  certain  poisons  in  the  blood. 

Now  we  cannot  contradict  the  fact  of  this  ex- 


168 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


periment:  that  the  rested  animal  was  made  t( 
look  tired.  But  we  can  question  the  inference  ^ 
dra^^^l.  The  truth  of  the  conclusion  aside,  war  ** 
the  evidence  suflEicient  to  establish  it?  Might  ® 

.  ,  .  !  P 

not,  for  instance,  similar  results  have  been  pro-  * 
duced  upon  the  rested  dog  if  blood  of  another 
rested  dog  had  been  transfused  into  it?  Had!' 
Mosso  made  such  an  experiment?  Other  objec-  b 
tions  should  easily  occur  to  one.  i 

Questions  which  admit  of  treatment  by  study-  ■ 
ing  both  sides  are  too  numerous  to  mention.  ! 
The  literature  of  philosophy  furnishes  particu-  j 
larly  good  material.  Examples  which  at  pres-  I 
ent  occur  to  me  are  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  i 
philosophy  versus  Mill’s  Examination  of  Sir 
William  Hamilton’ s  Philosophy,  and  Herbert 
Spencer’s  First  Principles  versus  William 
James’  essay,  Herbert  Spencer’s  Autobiog¬ 
raphy  and  Henri  Bergson’s  criticism  of  Spencer 
in  his  Creative  Evolution. 

Uncritical  students  of  the  history  of  philoso¬ 
phy  often  find  themselves  agreeing  with  each 
thinker  in  turn,  no  matter  how  much  he  contra¬ 
dicts  previous  thinkers,  and  end  by  acquiescing 
in  the  last  system  they  read  about.  I  remember 


I 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


169 


I  a  philosophy  class  which  completed  its  studies 
I  with  Pragmatism.  Of  course  it  was  merely  a 
I  coincidence,  but  at  the  end  of  the  course  fully 
j  nine-tenths  of  the  students  declared  themselves 
I  Pragmatists ! 

It  is  almost  needless  to  remark  that  an  author 
who  pretends  to  point  out  fallacies  in  another  is 
not  necessarily  right.  There  are  men  who  pride 
themselves  on  “reading  both  sides  of  a  sub¬ 
ject”;  but  unless  they  have  been  critical,  their 
knowledge  is  not  half  as  clear  or  as  likely  to  be 
true  as  that  of  a  man  who  has  read  only  one 
side,  but  who  has  read  it  critically. 

We  have  now  to  consider  the  next  step  out¬ 
lined  in  the  suggested  plan  of  reading — “writ¬ 
ten  note  should  be  made  of  the  problems  taken 
up  which  you  do  not  believe  have  been  ade¬ 
quately  treated,  or  the  solutions  of  which  are  in 
any  way  unsatisfactory.  These  you  should 
think  out  for  yourself.” 

When  reading  a  book  you  will  often  come 
across  a  statement,  perhaps  an  entire  chapter, 
with  which  you  disagree.  This  disagreement 
should  be  recorded  in  the  form  of  a  question; 


170 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


as  for  instance,  “Is  such  and  such  the  case?”  (4 
You  may  doubt  whether  an  author’s  explanation  It 
really  explains.  You  may  have  a  va^e  inar-i|i 
ticulate  suspicion  that  he  is  shding  over  facts,  Iji 
or  that  his  solution  is  too  superficial.  This  sus-  i 
picion  should  also  be  recorded  in  the  form  of  a  i 
question.  Often  again,  while  reading,  a  prob-  t 
lem  connected  with  the  subject  will  occur  to  you  j; 
which  the  author  has  not  even  considered.  I 
This  too  should  be  recorded.  j 

All  these  questions  should  unfailingly  he  writ¬ 
ten,  either  in  the  margin  or  on  a  piece  of  paper  j 
or  notebook  kept  always  at  hand.  You  should  ^  j 
then  set  aside  a  definite  time  for  thinking 
and  attempt  to  solve  the  questions  for  your¬ 
self. 

And  in  thinking  for  yourself  you  should  not 
make  the  author’s  remarks  the  basis  of  your 
thinking.  You  should  deal  with  a  problem  al¬ 
most  as  if  it  had  never  occurred  to  any  one  else 
but  you.  Simply  because  somebody  else  has 
been  satisfied  mth  a  certain  solution,  that  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  be.  You  should  deal 
directly  with  the  facts,  data  and  phenomena  un¬ 
der  consideration;  not  with  the  opinions  of 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


171 


others  about  those  facts,  data  and  phenomena. 
You  should  not  ask  yourself  whether  the  prag¬ 
matists  are  right,  or  whether  the  nominalists 
are  right,  or  the  socialists,  or  the  evolutionists, 
or  the  Democrats,  or  the  Presbyterians,  or  the 
hedonists,  or  what  not.  You  should  not  ask 
yourself  which  “school”  of  thinking  you  ought 
to  belong  to.  You  should  think  a  problem  out 
for  yourself,  in  every  way  that  phrase  implies. 
At  the  end  you  may,  incidentally,  find  yourself 
agreeing  in  the  main  with  some  school  of 
thought.  However,  this  will  be  only  accidental, 
and  your  thought  will  be  much  more  likely  to  be 
true.  But  you  should  never  agree  with  a  school 
of  thought  any  more  than  independent  thinking 
leads  you  to. 

Of  problems  dealt  with  in  this  manner,  some 
will  take  ten  minutes,  others  a  week.  If  you 
encounter  a  particularly  obstinate  problem  it 
may  be  best  to  leave  it  for  a  while,  say  a  week 
or  two  or  even  longer,  and  go  on  with  other 
problems.  When  problems  are  thus  recurrently 
treated  it  may  take  months,  even  years,  before 
a  satisfactory  solution  is  reached.  In  such 
cases  you  should  be  willing  to  give  months  and 


172 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


even  years  to  their  solution.  If  a  problem  is 
not  important  enough  to  devote  so  much  time 
to  you  may  be  forced  to  abandon  it;  but  you 
should  constantly  keep  in  mind  the  fact  that 
you  have  not  solved  it,  and  you  should  be  will-  ' 
ing  to  admit  to  others  that  you  have  not  solved 
it.  Never  allow  mere  intellectual  laziness  to 
stifle  your  doubts  and  make  you  think  you  have 
solved  a  problem,  when  you  know  in  your  heart 
of  hearts  that  you  have  worked  yourself  into 
the  state  of  belief  merely  to  save  yourself  men¬ 
tal  discomfort. 

When  most  of  your  problems  have  been  solved 
and  your  views  made  definite  you  may  resume 
your  reading.  You  may  proceed  to  other  books 
on  the  subject.  | 

As  to  the  suggestion  that  another  book  on  the 
subject  might  be  dealt  with  in  the  same  manner 
as  this  first  one :  this  will  depend  largely  on  the  ' 
individual  subject.  It  will  depend  on  just  what 
books  have  been  written  on  that  subject.  If 
none  completely  or  adequately  covers  the  field, 
or  if  there  are  two  or  more  good  books  repre¬ 
senting  radically  different  viewpoints,  more 
than  one  book  probably  ought  to  be  studied  in 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


173 


this  comprehensive  manner.  But  this  must  be 
left  to  the  reader’s  discretion. 

We  come  now  to  the  last  part  of  our  plan — 
“after  that  all  books  may  be  read  ‘hop,  skip  and 
jump’  fashion,  for  the  new  problems  or  solu¬ 
tions  they  suggest.” 

I  have  already  implied  the  necessity  for  this 
in  formulating  the  law  of  diminishing  returns. 
After  we  have  read  several  books  on  a  subject 
it  would  be  manifestly  foolish  to  continue  read¬ 
ing  books  on  that  same  subject  in  toto.  We 
would  merely  be  going  over  again  knowledge 
already  in  our  possession,  instead  of  using  our 
time  more  profitably  by  entering  new  territory. 
But  any  good  book  will  contain  something 
unique;  some  facts  or  principles  to  be  found 
nowhere  else;  or  perhaps  merely  an  unusually 
clear  way  of  explaining  some  old  principle, 
or  a  new  light  on  it.  This  we  should  endeavor 
to  get  without  wasting  our  time  by  plowing 
through  the  entire  volume. 

Theoretically  our  problem  is  difficult;  on  its 
face  it  would  seem  impossible.  We  are  to  read 
all  the  important  parts  of  a  book;  that  is,  the 


174 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


parts  most  important  for  us,  and  nothing  but  ^ 
the  important  parts.  But  until  we  read  it  how 
are  we  to  know  whether  any  given  part  of  a 
book  is  important?  In  practice,  however,  our 
difficulty  is  not  so  formidable. 

We  can  eliminate  the  greater  mass  of  the  rela-  i 
tively  useless  part  of  a  book  by  a  glance  at  its  : 
table  of  contents.  If  we  see  there  titles  which 
suggest  subjects  or  aspects  of  subjects  in  which  I 
we  are  not  interested,  or  that  we  feel  we  already  J 
know  enough  about,  or  that  are  simply  outside  I 
the  particular  purpose  we  have  in  consulting 
that  hook  at  all,  we  can  omit  those  chapters  and  \ 
confine  ourselves  to  the  others.  .  .  . 

When  we  were  children  first  learning  to  read  ' 
we  had  to  look  at  every  letter  in  a  word,  then 
spell  it  out.  Finally  its  meaning  dawned  upon 
us.  As  we  became  more  proficient  we  did  not 
have  to  look  at  every  letter;  we  could  read 
words  as  wholes  with  the  same  rapidity  as  the 
separate  letters.  Accurate  psychological  tests 
have  determined  that  a  man  can  read  such  words 
as  “and”  and  “the”  with  even  greater  rapidity 
than  any  single  letter  composing  them.  We 
finally  reach  the  point  where  we  can  read  short 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


175 


phrases  at  the  same  rate  as  we  formerly  could 
single  words. 

But  the  secret  of  the  scholar  who  can  cover 
efficiently  much  more  ground  than  ordinary  men 
is  not  so  much  that  he  reads  faster,  as  that  he 
reads  less.  In  other  words,  instead  of  reading 
every  word  he  glances  down  a  page  and  sees  cer¬ 
tain  “cue”  words  or  rather  “cue”  phrases,  for 
the  eye  and  mind  take  in  phrases  as  wholes.  If 
he  is  familiar  with  the  subject  (and  he  is  not  to 
employ  this  method  unless  and  until  he  is)  he 
knows  immediately,  by  “a  sort  of  instinct”  as 
Buckle  called  it,  whether  any  new  or  valuable 
thought  is  on  that  page.  When  he  finds  that 
there  is  he  involuntarily  slackens  his  pace  and 
reads  that  thought  at  ordinary  reading  pace  or 
even  slower.  Sometimes  indeed  he  will  read 
whole  chapters  slowly,  word  for  word,  if  the  con¬ 
tents  are  sufficiently  novel  and  important  to  war¬ 
rant  it. 

Read  by  this  “hop,  skip  and  jump”  fashion  a 
book  the  size  of  the  present  volume  might  take 
an  hour  or  even  less.  But  it  is  almost  impos¬ 
sible  to  give  even  an  approximate  estimate  of 
the  time  such  reading  ought  to  take.  Of  course 


176 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


the  longer  you  spend  the  more  you  will  get  out 
of  a  book,  but  the  return  per  time  invested  will 
be  less  and  less.  On  the  other  hand  if  you  read 
the  book  too  fast  you  may  be  wasting  your  time 
altogether ;  you  may  end  by  understanding  noth¬ 
ing  at  all.  Much  will  depend  upon  the  original¬ 
ity  and  depth  of  the  book,  upon  the  reader’s  ; 
familiarity  with  the  subject,  and  upon  his  native 
mental  qualities.  ' 

Many  may  object  to  practicing  the  foregoing 
method  because  they  have  a  vague  feeling  that 
it  is  their  duty  to  read  every  word  in  a  book,  j 
I  suspect  that  the  real  reason  for  this  is  simply 
so  that  when  asked  they  can  conscientiously  say 
they  have  read  the  book.  Whereas  if  they  had  || 
follow'ed  this  skipping  method  they  would  be 
able  to  say  only  that  they  had  ‘  ‘  glanced  through  > 
it  ”  or  at  best  that  they  had  ‘  ‘  read  parts  of  it.  ”  . 
To  this  objection  I  have  nothing  to  say,  for  I  am 
confining  my  remarks  to  those  in  search  of  truth 
and  Imowledge  rather  than  conversation  and  the 
good  opinion  of  those  who  believe  that  reading 
from  cover  to  cover  is  the  only  path  to  wisdom. 

I  might  point  out  in  passing,  however,  that  if  we 
do  follow  this  method  there  will  be  a  half  dozen 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


177 


at  books  which  we  can  say  we  have  ‘  ‘  glanced 
I  through”  to  one  which  we  would  otherwise  have 
been  able  to  say  we  had  “read.” 
e ,  This  way  of  dealing  with  a  book  is  construc¬ 
tive  and  positive  as  opposed  to  the  negative 
method  of  critical  reading.  For  we  read  for 
suggestion  only;  we  carry  forward  some  line 
of  thought  of  an  author,  which  is  better  for  in¬ 
tellectual  development  than  trying  to  find  if  he 
!was  wrong  and  where  he  was  wrong.  Not  only 
■  is  this  positive  method  more  interesting ;  in  some 
respects  it  is  better  even  for  criticism.  For  in 
carrying  forward  an  author’s  line  of  thought, 

'  noting  its  consequences  and  implications  and 
.  considering  different  cases  where  it  applies,  we 
find  whether  or  not  it  leads  to  absurd  conclu¬ 
sions  ;  whether  or  not  all  concrete  instances  con¬ 
form  with  it.  It  should  be  kept  in  mind  that 
this  method  is  not  to  be  followed  until  the  main 
text-book  has  been  studied.  Consequently 
when  it  is  followed  your  mind  mil  have  been 
fortified  by  previous  reading  and  thinking; 
valuable  thoughts  of  an  author  will  tend  to  im¬ 
press  you  and  be  remembered,  while  his  trite 
or  erroneous  ideas  will  tend  to  be  ignored. 


178 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


But  after  all,  what  is  important  is  not  your  at-  iiji 
titude  or  method  at  the  time  of  reading  a  hook,  p 
but  the  thinking  done  later.  The  critical  atti-  pi 
tude  has  its  shortcomings,  for  when  we  are  on  1 
the  lookout  for  an  author’s  mistakes  we  often  i( 
miss  the  full  significance  of  his  truths.  On  the  f 
other  hand  when  “reading  for  suggestion”  we  -n 
may  too  often  allow  an  error  to  pass  unques-  '  j 
tioned.  But  both  these  disadvantages  may  be  i 
overcome  if  we  do  enough  thinking  afterward,  s 
Only  one  thing  I  must  insist  on:  make  sure 
you  understand  every  sentence  of  a  book.  Do  ' 
not  “guess”  you  understand  it.  Do  not  slide  1 
over  it  in  the  hope  that  the  author  will  explain 
it  later.  Do  not  work  yourself  into  the  belief 
that  after  all  it  is  not  really  important.  Bather 
than  this,  better  by  far  do  not  read  the  book  at 
all.  Not  only  will  you  get  little  or  nothing  from 
it  but  you  will  be  forming  the  worst  of  intel¬ 
lectual  habits — that  of  thinking  you  understand 
when  you  do  not.  If  you  have  made  every  rea¬ 
sonable  effort  to  understand  an  author  and  then 
have  not  succeeded,  write  in  the  margin  “I  do 
not  understand  this,”  or  draw  a  line  alongside 
the  sentence  or  passage.  If  you  have  to  do  this 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


179 


too  often  you  should  put  the  volume  aside  for  a 
time.  It  is  either  too  advanced  for  you  or  it  is 
not  worth  reading. 

As  to  the  thinking  you  do  after  reading. 
Often  problems  connected  with  the  subject  of  a 
book  you  have  read  may  arise  spontaneously  in 
mind,  or  an  objection  to  a  statement  may  sud¬ 
denly  occur  to  you  when  thinking  on  some  other 
topic.  Of  course  when  this  happens  you  should 
not  stifle  your  thoughts.  But  besides  this, 
definite  periods  should  be  put  aside  for  thinking 
on  what  you  have  read  and  on  the  problems  you 
have  written.  I  cannot  insist  on  this  too  stren¬ 
uously  or  too  often. 

A  good  task  to  set  before  yourself  is  to  take 
every  idea  you  agree  with  in  a  book  and  try  to 
treat  it  as  a  “germ.”  Tell  yourself  that  you 
will  develop  it  beyond  the  point  where  the  au¬ 
thor  left  olf.  Of  course  this  will  not  always  be 
possible.  You  will  seldom  succeed.  But  there 
is  nothing  like  hitching  your  wagon  to  a  star, 
and  it  will  do  no  harm  to  set  this  up  as  an  ideal. 

A  few  miscellaneous  problems  remain  to  be 
considered. 


180 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


How  should  we  deal  with  authors  with  whon  P 
we  disagree  fundamentally?  Herbert  Spencei 
relates  that  he  twice  started  Kant’s  Critique  o] 
Pure  Reason,  but  disagreeing  fundamentally  w 
with  the  first  and  main  proposition  he  ceased 
reading.  Now  to  do  this  is  to  give  an  author  too  < 
much  credit  for  consistency.  For  even  if  every  ly 
other  proposition  he  sets  forth  is  ostensibly  a  ® 
corollary  from  his  leading  one,  some  of  them 
will  contain  much  truth.  It  is  impossible  to  be 
consistently  wrong.  Add  to  this  the  possibility 
that  the  author  may  be  right  on  his  first  proposi¬ 
tion  after  all.  However,  no  book  with  a  view¬ 
point  radically  different  from  our  own  should  be 
used  as  a  main  text,  for  we  would  get  little 
benefit  from  it.  If  the  book  is  by  an  obscure 
author  we  may  safely  lay  it  aside  altogether.  | 
But  if  it  is  by  so  famous  and  so  bepraised  a  ( 
philosopher  as  Kant  we  should  at  least  glance 
through  the  entire  volume  for  suggestions. 

How  many  times  ought  we  to  read  a  book  ?  I 
have  already  partly  answered  this  in  formulat¬ 
ing  the  law  of  diminishing  returns.  Few  books 
are  worth  re-reading.  Rather  than  read  one 
book  twice  on  any  given  subject  it  will  most 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


181 


iDften  be  more  profitable  to  read  another  book 
on  it.  For  the  second  will  not  only  serve  as  a 
review  of  previous  knowledge,  but  will  furnish 
lyou  with  new  ideas,  ditferent  aspects  and  new 
problems. 

Certain  books,  however,  can  never  be  replaced 
by  others.  They  occupy  this  position  either  be¬ 
cause  they  deal  with  a  subject  not  elsewhere 
dealt  with  or  because  they  take  an  entirely  novel 
aspect,  or  solely  because  they  are  the  works  of 
supreme  genius,  for  while  the  main  conclusions 
reached  in  works  of  this  last  type  may  be  found 
elsewhere,  the  manner  of  thinking  can  never  be. 
These  books  should  be  read  twice.  The  main 
text-book  selected  on  any  subject  will  usually 
be  chosen  because  it  is  the  best  and  most  com¬ 
prehensive  work  on  that  subject.  For  this  rea¬ 
son  it  should  be  read  a  second  time  even  if  such 
reading  is  only  of  the  hop,  skip  and  jump 
variety. 

We  should  not  re-read  a  book  immediately 
upon  the  first  completion  but  should  always 
allow  a  long  interval  to  elapse.  There  are  sev¬ 
eral  reasons  for  this.  After  an  interval  we  ac¬ 
quire  perspective ;  we  are  in  a  position  to  know 


182 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


whether  a  book  has  done  us  any  good  and  just 
about  how  much.  We  may  find  after  this  in- 
terval  that  a  work  of  which  we  thought  quite  ^ 
highly  at  the  time  of  reading  has  really  not  '• 
helped  us  appreciably  either  in  thought  or  ac¬ 
tion.  We  may  find  that  we  have  outgrown  the 
need  of  it.  Even  if  we  finally  decide  to  re-read 
we  shall  find  the  wait  of  immense  help  to  our 
memory.  If  we  re-read  a  hook  after  an  interval 
of  six  months,  three  years  after  our  second  read¬ 
ing  we  will  remember  its  contents  much  better 
than  if  we  had  read  it  three  times  in  unbroken  i 
succession.  Add  to  this  that  in  the  lapse  of 
time  we  shall  have  forgotten  most  of  the  work,  I 
and  shall  therefore  approach  it  the  second  time  i 
with  greater  interest  than  if  it  were  still  fresh 
in  mind ;  that  our  experience,  reading  and  think¬ 
ing  in  the  meantime  will  make  us  see  every  sen¬ 
tence  in  a  different  light,  enabling  us  to  judge 
our  own  marginal  criticisms  (if  we  have  made 
any)  as  well  as  the  book,  and  the  advantage  of 
waiting  cannot  be  doubted.  I  do  not  believe  it 
will  ever  be  necessary  to  read  a  book  more  than 
twice,  that  is,  so  far  as  thought  and  knowledge 
are  concerned.  With  books  read  for  their 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


183 


style  or  for  mere  amusement  the  case  is  ditfer- 
ent. 

How  long  should  one  read  at  a  sitting  1  Some 
men  find  that  their  thought  is  choked  by  read¬ 
ing.  Some  find  it  stimulated.  But  results  vary 
according  to  the  length  of  time  reading  is  car¬ 
ried  on.  Reading  for  very  long  periods  at  a 
stretch  often  deadens  original  thought.  The 
writer  finds  that  he  nearly  always  derives  benefit 
from  reading  for  short  periods,  say  ten  or  fif¬ 
teen  minutes.  This  is  in  some  measure  due  to 
the  increased  concentration  which  short  periods 
allow.  On  the  other  hand,  some  people  find  that 
a  certain  momentum  is  acquired  during  long 
reading  periods.  The  reader  can  only  experi¬ 
ment  to  find  how  long  a  period  best  suits  his  in¬ 
dividual  case. 

How  about  concentration  ?  This  has  been  con¬ 
sidered  in  relation  to  independent  thinking,  but 
in  reading  the  problem  is  somewhat  different. 
In  thinking  our  task  is  to  choose  relevant  asso¬ 
ciates.  In  reading  the  associates  are  chosen 
for  us.  Our  task  is  to  stick  to  them,  instead  of 
following  the  associates  which  occur  to  us  either 
from  what  we  read  or  from  sights  and  sounds 


184 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


about  us.  But  associates  which  occur  to  U5 
from  what  we  read  are  of  two  kinds:  relevani 
and  irrelevant,  and  the  former  should  of  course 
be  followed  out.  This  however  should  be  done 
deliberately,  in  the  manner  I  have  previously  in¬ 
dicated,  and  when  the  vein  of  suggested  thoughi 
has  been  exhausted  we  should  bring  attentior 
back  to  our  book.  The  problem  of  concentra-f^ 
tion  is  not  a  very  serious  one  in  reading.  11!^ 
may  sometimes  be  difficult  to  concentrate  on  a  J 
book.  But  it  is  infinitely  easier  than  concern ! 
trating  on  a  problem  by  unaided  independent* 
thought. 

The  plan  of  reading  I  have  laid  out  is  merely 
suggestive.  What  I  chiefly  wanted  to  show  was 
that  all  books  cannot  be  treated  alike,  that  we  > 
cannot  lay  down  dogmatic  inflexible  rules  to 
apply  to  every  volume.  Our  method  of  reading 
will  vary  with  the  nature  of  a  book  or  of  the  sub¬ 
ject  it  treats.  It  will  depend  upon  the  books  we 
have  already  read  and  even  upon  the  books  we 
contemplate  reading  later. 

The  good  you  get  out  of  reading  will  depend 
entirely  on  how  you  allow  it  to  affect  you.  If 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


185 


1 

book  you  read  suggests  more  problems, 
;  gives  you  worth-while  questions  and  topics 
to  think  about  in  spare  moments,  enriches  your 
intellectual  life  and  stimulates  your  thought,  it 
is  performing  its  proper  function.  But  if  you 
read  solely  to  answer  problems  you  cannot  an¬ 
swer  for  yourself,  if  every  time  you  are  puzzled 
about  anything  you  run  to  a  book  to  have  it  ex¬ 
plained,  and  accept  without  question  the  ex¬ 
planation  there  given ;  in  short,  if  you  use  your 
reading  to  save  yourself  from  thinking,  you  had 
better  stop  reading  altogether.  Smoking  is  a 
far  less  harmful  form  of  dissipation. 

I  have  not  yet  definitely  indicated  the  ratio 
which  time  given  to  reading  should  bear  to  time 
devoted  to  thinking.  I  have  avoided  this  be¬ 
cause  of  the  many  factors  to  be  taken  into  ac¬ 
count.  But  if  the  reader  happens  to  have  a 
spare  hour  to  devote  to  the  improvement  of  his 
mind,  he  will  not  go  very  far  wrong  if  he  gives 
thirty  minutes  to  reading  and  thirty  minutes  to 
thinking.  His  thinking  may  be  on  the  subject 
he  has  read,  or  part  of  it  may  be  on  other  prob¬ 
lems.  That  is  not  so  important.  But  the 
reader  must  not  imagine  that  his  thinking  need 


186 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


be  restricted  to  these  thirty  minutes  or  any  other 
thirty  minutes.  The  glorious  advantage  of  | 
thinking  is  that  it  can  be  fitted  in  at  any  odd  mo-  f 
ment.  The  entire  apparatus  for  carrying  it  on  i 
is  always  with  you.  You  do  not  even  need  a  j 
book  for  it.  I  remind  the  reader  of  this  at  the 
risk  of  repeating  myself.  j 

It  was  pointed  out  at  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter  that  the  reading  of  any  book  is  not  an 
end  in  itself,  but  should  be  subordinated  to  the 
larger  end  of  obtaining  the  best  from  reading  in 
general.  But  for  the  sake  of  clearness  our  end 
was  temporarily  considered  as  the  mastery  of 
some  particular  subject.  I  indicated  a  plan 
of  reading  to  best  serve  that  end.  I  also  prom¬ 
ised  that  needful  qualifications  would  come 
later. 

In  stating  the  law  of  diminishing  returns  it 
was  pointed  out  that  it  applied  to  whole  sub¬ 
jects  as  well  as  to  books,  that  “past  a  certain 
point  every  book  we  read  on  a  subject,  while  it 
will  probably  add  to  our  knowledge,  will  not 
yield  as  much  return  as  a  book  of  equal  merit  on 
another  subject  new  to  us.” 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


187 


1 
t 

;  While  this  is  true  it  applies  to  but  a  small  ex- 
i  tent  when  subjects  are  read  by  the  method  just 
outlined,  for  while  we  do  not  get  as  much  out 
1  of  any  book  as  we  would  out  of  one  of  equal 
merit  on  another  subject,  we  read  it  so  much 
faster  that  the  return  per  time  and  energy  ex¬ 
pended  is  practically  as  great.  This  fast  read¬ 
ing  is  made  possible  by  our  previous  knowledge 
on  the  old  subject.  If  the  book  on  the  new  sub¬ 
ject  were  read  in  the  same  manner,  we  might  get 
little  or  nothing  from  it. 

With  this  objection  out  of  the  way  I  suggest 
that  the  reader  get  a  specialty.  Books  read  in 
the  ordinary  unsystematic  fashion,  now  on  this 
subject  and  now  on  that,  leave  little  permanent 
impression.  Even  if  they  do,  we  feel  that 
though  our  range  of  reading  may  be  wide  we 
have  at  best  but  a  smattering  of  many  things. 
In  the  final  analysis  a  smattering  of  knowledge 
is  in  most  cases  of  no  more  use  than  total  ignor¬ 
ance.  Better  by  far  be  ignorant  of  many  things 
and  know  one  thing  well,  than  know  many  things 
badly. 

Besides  the  utility  of  having  a  specialty  is  the 
pleasure  we  derive.  There  is  always  an  intense 


1S8 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


satisfaction  in  feeling  that  one  is  an  “expert,” 
an  “authority”  in  some  subject.  When  some 
Congressman  makes  an  inaccurate  remark  | 
which  trespasses  on  your  specialty  you  can  13 
write  a  letter  to  the  Times  or  the  Sun  explain-  I* 
ing  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  incidentally  ex-  i 
hibiting  your  own  limitless  erudition.  When  i 
your  friends  get  into  an  argument  on  some  ques-  4 
tion  within  your  chosen  field  they  will  remark,  ' 
“Ask  John  Jones.  He  ought  to  know.”  And  *. 
even  when  you  have  to  confess  abysmal  igmor-  ■ 
ance  on  some  question  outside  of  your  domains,  j 
you  may  still  have  the  satisfaction  of  believing  1 
that  people  are  excusing  you  within  themselves 
with  an  ‘  ‘  Oh,  well,  but  he  knows  a  lot  about 
someology.  ’  ’ 

One  writer  estimates  that  “fifteen  minutes  a 
day  or  a  half  hour  three  days  a  week  devoted  to 
one  definite  study  'will  make  one  a  master  in  that 
field  in  a  dozen  years.  ’  ’  ®  This  statement 
should  interest  those  people  who  “haven’t  the 
time  ’  ’  to  take  up  any  specialty  outside  their  own 
business,  but  who  spend  at  least  half  an  hour 
every  day  in  newspaper  or  magazine  reading — 

6  Edward  Griggs,  The  Use  of  the  Margin. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


189 


with  nothing  to  show  for  it  at  the  end  of  twenty 
7ears. 

Just  what  subject  you  make  your  specialty  I 
am  not  at  present  concerned.  It  may  be 
aeronautics,  astronomy,  banking,  Greek  history, 
differential  calculus,  social  psychology,  electric¬ 
ity,  music,  philosophy  of  law,  submarines,  soap 
manufacture,  religion,  metaphysics,  sun-motors, 
education,  literary  style  or  the  moon.  But 
whatever  it  is,  it  ought  to  be  a  subject  in  which 
you  are  interested  for  its  own  sake-  wfiicb  most 
frequently  means  one  which  you  do  not  make 
your  vocation.  If  you  get  tired  of  it,  drop  it 
and  take  up  something  in  which  you  are  inter¬ 
ested.  Your  thinking  and  study  should  be  pur¬ 
sued  as  a  pleasure — not  as  a  duty. 

If  your  subject  is  a  narrow  one,  if  let  us  say 
it  is  merely  a  branch  of  what  is  generally  con¬ 
sidered  a  science,  you  should  first  get  a  clear 
idea  of  the  broad  outlines  of  the  science  before 
taking  the  specialty  up.  Should  you,  for  in¬ 
stance,  select  the  tariff,  begin  your  study  by  us¬ 
ing  as  your  main  text  a  book  on  general  eco¬ 
nomics. 

Even  if  you  make  your  specialty  an  entire 


190 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


science  you  will  derive  great  help  by  reading 
in  other  sciences.  In  ethics,  for  instance,  a 
knowledge  of  psychology,  biology  and  sociology 
will  prove  of  surprising  value.  This  means 
that  for  the  sake  of  knowing  the  specialty  it¬ 
self,  if  for  nothing  else,  you  should  not  pursue 
it  exclusively.  If  -ever  you  find  yourself  in  dan¬ 
ger  of  doing  this  it  would  be  well  to  lay  down 
a  rule  that  every  third  or  fourth  book  you  read 
must  be  one  which  does  not  deal  with  the  subject 
you  have  chosen  as  your  own. 


VIII 


WRITING  ONE’S  THOUGHTS 

Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  conference  a  ready 
man,  and  writing  an  exact  man. — Bacon. 

Any  attempt  to  formulate  a  science  or  art 
of  thinking  would  not  be  complete  with¬ 
out  at  least  some  discussion  of  writing.  Indeed 
writing  is  so  closely  bound  up  with  thinking  that 
I  have  been  compelled  to  refer  to  it  several  times 
in  the  discussion  of  thought  and  reading. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  writing  as  an  aid  to 
concentration.  I  was  wont  to  depreciate  it  on 
account  of  its  slowness.  But  this  is  practically 
its  only  fault.  Thoughts  come  to  us  when  writ¬ 
ing  which  we  get  in  no  other  way.  One  is  often 
surprised,  when  reading  something  one  has 
written  at  a  previous  time,  at  some  of  the  re¬ 
marks  made.  We  seem  to  have  temporarily 
grown  wiser  than  ourselves. 

But  the  great  advantage  of  writing  is  that  it 

191 


192 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


preserves  thought.  What  printing  has  done  foi  ^ 
humanity  in  preserving  the  knowledge  of  the  ® 
ages,  writing  will  do  for  the  individual  in  pre¬ 
serving  his  own  reflections. 

When  some  thought  has  occurred  to  us  we  be¬ 
lieve  at  the  time  we  are  thinking  it  that  it  is  ours 
forever.  We  cannot  conceive  that  it  shall  ever 
be  forgotten.  Perish  that  belief!  I  have  some¬ 
times  had  an  idea  occur  to  me  (really!),  and 
have  believed  it  absolutely  new,  at  least  so  far 
as  I  was  concerned.  But  on  looking  over  things 
written  before,  I  have  found  that  I  had  had  al¬ 
most  identically  the  same  thought  at  another 
time.  Not  only  did  I  forget  the  idea;  I  did  not 
even  recognize  it  at  its  second  appearance.  To 
be  sure,  in  these  cases  the  thoughts  came  a  sec¬ 
ond  time.  But  thoughts  are  seldom  so  oblig¬ 
ing. 

Therefore  when  an  idea  occurs  or  when  you 
have  solved  a  problem,  even  a  problem  sug¬ 
gested  by  a  book,  you  should  immediately  put 
the  idea  or  solution  in  writing.  You  may  of 
course  wait  until  the  end  of  the  day.  But  the 
safest  way  of  capturing  an  idea  is  to  write  it 
the  minute  after  it  flashes  through  your  brain, 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


193 


or  it  may  be  lost  forever.  It  was  with  this  in 
mind  that  in  the  chapter  on  reading  I  advised 
immediately  writing  not  only  ideas  but  prob¬ 
lems  which  occurred  to  one.  The  discovery  of  a 
new  problem  is  just  as  important  and  necessary 
for  intellectual  advance  as  the  solution  of  an  old 
one.  If  we  do  not  write  our  problems  we  are 
apt  to  forget  they  exist;  we  put  ourselves  in 
danger  of  assuming  without  question  some 
proposition  which  is  not  time. 

To  facilitate  the  writing  of  your  thoughts  and 
meditations  I  suggest  a  notebook  kept  specially 
for  that  purpose.  In  addition  to  this  you  should 
always  carry  about  with  you  some  blank  paper 
and  a  pencil,  so  as  to  be  ever  ready  to  jot  down 
anything.  To  write  an  idea  does  not  of  course 
imply  that  you  cannot  later  reject  it,  or  change 
it,  or  develop  it  further. 

The  elusiveness  of  thoughts  is  most  strikingly 
brought  out  when  writing  them  down.  When 
we  are  writing  a  long  sentence  we  have  in  mind 
the  exact  words  with  which  we  are  going  to 
finish  it.  But  our  attention  is  called  for  the 
moment  to  the  physical  act  of  writing,  and  pres¬ 
to! — the  words  are  gone;  we  are  compelled  to 


194 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


end  our  sentence  in  a  different  way.  I  have 
mentioned  the  advantages  of  shorthand  and 
typewriting  for  keeping  pace  with  thought.  I 
need  merely  repeat  my  advice  to  use  these  ac¬ 
quirements  if  you  have  them.  Thoughts,  I 
must  repeat,  are  fleeting.  No  device  for  trap¬ 
ping  them  should  be  despised. 

Not  least  among  the  advantages  of  a  note¬ 
book  in  which  to  write  thoughts  is  the  permanent 
historical  record  it  gives.  Every  thought  we 
write  should  be  dated,  day,  month  and  year, 
like  a  letter.  When  we  come  to  read  over  ideas 
jotted  down  from  time  to  time  in  this  man¬ 
ner,  we  shall  see  before  us  an  intellectual 
autobiography.  We  shall  see  how  our  recent 
thoughts  compare  with  those  written  sometime 
ago.  We  shall  see  just  what  our  opinions  were 
at  certain  times,  and  how  they  have  changed. 
And  we  shall  see  whether  our  mental  progress 
has  been  marked,  or  whether  we  have  been  stand¬ 
ing  still. 

It  may  be  considered  absurd  to  suggest  that 
every  thought  you  write  in  your  note-book  be 
put  in  the  best  style  you  can  command.  We  are 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


195 


V  wont  to  differentiate  “style”  and  “matter.” 

i 

Kjit  is  doubtful  whether  this  distinction  is  quite 

I  valid.  It  is  doubtful  whether  we  know  just  what 
we  mean  when  we  make  it.  Indeed  Arnold 

:  Bennett  goes  so  far  as  to  say : 

'  “Style  cannot  be  distinguished  from  matter. 
When  a  writer  conceives  an  idea  he  conceives 
it  in  the  form  of  words.  That  form  of  words 
constitutes  his  style,  and  it  is  absolutely  gov¬ 
erned  by  the  idea.  The  idea  can  only  exist  in 
words,  it  can  only  exist  in  one  form  of  words. 
You  cannot  say  exactly  the  same  thing  in  two 
different  ways.  Slightly  alter  the  expression, 
and  you  slightly  alter  the  idea.  Surely  it  is 
obvious  that  the  expression  cannot  be  altered 
without  altering  the  thing  expressed !  The 
writer,  having  conceived  and  expressed  an  idea, 
may,  and  probably  will,  ‘polish  it  up.’  But 
what  does  he  polish  up?  To  say  that  he  pol¬ 
ishes  up  his  style  is  merely  to  say  that  he  pol¬ 
ishes  up  his  idea,  that  he  has  discovered  faults 
and  imperfections  in  his  idea,  and  is  perfecting 
it.  The  idea  exists  in  proportion  as  it  is  ex¬ 
pressed  ;  it  exists  when  it  is  expressed,  and  not 


196 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


before.  It  expresses  itself.  A  clear  idea  is  ex-  ji 
pressed  clearly  and  a  vague  idea  vaguely.  ”  ^  'f 

Mr.  Bennett,  I  suspect,  is  a  victim  of  exagger¬ 
ation.  But  this  much  is  true:  Thought  and  sj 
style  are  mutually  dependent  to  a  far  greater 
degree  than  is  generally  supposed.  Not  only 
will  an  improvement  in  a  thought  improve  its 
wording;  an  improvement  in  wording  will  im¬ 
prove  the  thought. 

Now  as  to  the  application  of  this.  I  have  re¬ 
ferred  to  the  occurrence  in  reading  of  “inar¬ 
ticulate”  objections.  The  sole  reason  these  are 
inarticulate  is  because  the  objection  is  too  vague 
even  to  find  expression.  In  a  case  like  this  we 
should  word  our  objection  the  best  we  can,  no 
matter  how  ridiculous  or  indefensible  it  at  first 
sounds.  But  we  should  word  it  in  as  many  w^ays 
as  possible;  we  should  say  it  in  all  different  , 
sorts  of  ways ;  we  should  write  it  in  every  dif¬ 
ferent  kind  of  way.  Gradually  our  objection 
will  become  definite,  clear,  forceful.  In  short, 
we  shall  not  only  have  improved  our  way  of 
stating  our  thought ;  we  shall  have  improved  the 
thought  itself.  To  study  clearness  of  statement 

1  Literary  Taste. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


197 


or  acquisition  of  vocabulary  is  to  study  means  of 
improving  thought.  Your  notebook  should  not 
be  used  solely  for  the  entry  of  “thoughts”  as 
such,  but  any  striking  way  of  wording  a  thought 
which  occurs  to  you  should  likewise  be  immedi¬ 
ately  written. 

But  while  there  is  some  truth  in  Arnold  Ben¬ 
nett’s  statement  that  the  wording  is  the  thought, 
from  another  point  of  view  its  very  opposite  is 
true.  The  wording  is  never  the  thought. 
Strictly  speaking,  “thought”  is  something 
which  can  exist  only  in  the  mind.  It  can  never 
be  transferred  to  paper.  What  then  is  it  that 
we  write?  If  words  and  sentences  are  not 
thought,  what  are  they?  If  they  are  not  thought 
how  is  it  possible  to  transfer  thought  through 
the  medium  of  writing? 

The  fact  is  that  words,  though  they  are  not 
thought,  are  the  associates  of  thought.  You 
hear  the  word  “horse.”  Very  likely  the  visual 
image  of  a  horse  arises  in  mind.  This  image, 
idea,  notion,  “concept,”  will  depend  on  your  ex¬ 
perience  of  particular  horses.  It  will  never  be 
a  logical  abstract  of  these.  It  will  never  be  a 
horse  without  color,  particular  size,  sex  or 


198 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


breed,  as  is  sometimes  thought.  It  may  how 
ever  have  different  elements  in  it  from  differeni  ' 
horses  you  have  seen.  It  may  be  the  image  oi 
just  one  particular  horse  you  remember.  But 
no  such  thing  as  a  general  concept  exists  in  the 
mind.  W e  have  a  particular  image  which  stands 
for  all  horses.  The  name  of  course  is  gen-! 
eral.  It — or  its  definition — ^may  be  called  the 
logical  concept.  But  the  name  itself  is  not  used 
in  thought.  It  is  an  arbitrary  symbol  which 
serves  merely  to  arouse  a  particular  image  asso¬ 
ciated  with  it,  and  this  image  is  dealt  with  as  if 
general.  This  image  we  shall  call  the  concept! 
It  is  the  working  concept:  the  psychological  as  \ 
opposed  to  the  logical  concept. 

As  your  concept  of  a  horse  will  depend  on 
your  experience  of  particular  horses,  another 
person’s  concept  will  depend  on  his  experience 
of  that  animal.  And  as  his  experience  can 
never  be  exactly  the  same  as  yours,  his  concept, 
though  it  may  be  similar  to  yours,  will  not  be 
the  same.  Not  only  will  no  one  else  have  the 
same  mental  image  or  concept  as  you  but  you 
yourself  will  never  have  exactly  the  same  image 
twice.  This  image  will  vary  with  the  setting  in 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


199 


.1  which  it  occurs — with  the  associates  which  hap- 
,  pen  to  arouse  it.  If  you  are  reading  about  a 
•  great  battle  and  the  word  ‘  ‘  horse  ’  ’  is  mentioned, 
I  a  certain  kind  of  horse  will  suggest  itself  to  you. 

,  If  you  are  reading  about  a  grocery  wagon  and 
I  see  the  word  ‘‘horse”  another  kind  will  suggest 
i  itself.  This  whether  the  animal  is  described  by 
adjectives  or  not.  At  one  time  you  may  think 
of  the  horse  as  in  motion,  at  another  time  as  at 
rest. 

Unfortunately  many  so-called  psychologists 
seem  to  consider  the  concept,  even  this  image- 
concept,  as  something  fixed  in  the  individual,  or 
at  best  as  only  changing  vfith  actual  experience 
of  the  thing  conceived.  The  truth  is  that  the 
image  or  images  aroused  on  hearing  any  word 
are  not  the  same  for  two  seconds  at  a  time. 
They  are  fluid,  dynamic;  never  static,  immobile. 
They  are  associates  of  the  words  in  a  constant 
state  of  flux.^  When  the  concept  of  one  indi¬ 
vidual  varies  from  one  moment  to  the  next,  how 

2  The  most  advanced  and  severe  psychologists  may  object 
to  some  statements  in  this  exposition.  I  admit  that  a  word 
may  be  used  as  the  concept,  but  only  provided  it  is  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  “fringe”  of  potential  associates.  I  also  admit 
that  in  order  to  be  dealt  with  as  if  general,  the  visual  image 


200  •  THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


must  the  concepts  of  different  individuals  differ 
from  each  other ! 

I  have  instanced  the  idea  of  a  horse  because  it 
is  so  simple  and  concrete.  In  actual  thinking  ® 
we  never  meet  with  a  simple  separated  concept 
or  with  a  single  word ;  we  deal  with  at  least  an 
entire  sentence.  This  means  that  our  images 
vary  even  more  widely  at  different  times  than 
was  the  case  in  the  example.  It  means  that  the 
images  of  other  people  are  at  a  correspondingly 
greater  variance  from  ours. 

As  to  the  application  of  all  this  to  writing,  i 
We  have  an  idea;  thinking  it  important  we  de¬ 
cide  to  jot  it  down.  Now  we  cannot  jot  down 
the  idea,  but  only  words  associated  with  it.  We 
cannot  even  write  all  the  words  associated  with 
it,  for  there  are  too  many.  So  we  write  a  com¬ 
parative  few;  and  we  say  we  have  written  the 
idea.  But  all  we  have  really  written  is  some¬ 
thing  associated  with  the  idea.  When  we  read  I 
this  over  at  a  later  time  we  shall  not  have 
the  same  ideas  aroused  as  were  in  mind  origi- 

must  be  accompanied  by  such  a  “fringe.”  But  I  do  insist 
that  this  fringe  itself  is  in  a  constant  state  of  flux.  That  is 
the  important  point  for  our  present  purposes. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


201 


nally,  but  at  best  only  similar  ideas.  For  the 
associates  of  words,  like  all  associates,  are  con¬ 
stantly  changing;  and  thanks  to  the  frailties  of 
human  memory  exactly  the  same  associates  are 
never  aroused  twice.  So  after  a  long  interval 
!  they  will  be  much  ditferent  than  at  the  time  we 
I  wrote.  The  reader  will  often  have  the  expe¬ 
rience  of  “writing  a  thought”  and  thinking  it 
very  important,  but  on  reading  it  at  another 
time  he  will  fail  to  see  why  he  ever  considered 
it  worth  putting  on  paper.  The  truth  is  that 
at  the  time  he  wrote  the  idea  it  probably  was 
important,  because  he  had  the  right  concepts. 
But  when  he  came  back  to  the  words  he  had 
written  they  failed  to  re-suggest  the  former  con¬ 
cepts  and  associates. 

This  difference  between  words  and  thought  is 
even  more  strikingly  brought  out  when  the  writ¬ 
ten  thought  is  read  by  some  other  person  than 
the  writer.  The  writer  is  likely  at  least  to  have 
approximately  the  same  concepts  as  at  the  time 
of  writing.  And  he  is  greatly  aided  by  his  mem¬ 
ory  in  recalling  the  concepts  and  associated 
ideas  previously  in  mind,  the  words  suggesting 
these.  But  when  a  person  reads  what  some  one 


202 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


else  has  wiitten,  he  translates  the  words  intc 
the  concepts  previously  connected  with  them  ii 
his  own  mind.  Thus  an  author  can  never  liter 
ally  transfer  an  idea.  He  can  merely  put  dowi 
certain  arbitrary  symbols,  which  will  serve  tc 
arouse  a  similar  thought  in  his  readers.  Hotv 
greatly  the  reader’s  thought  differs  from  the  au¬ 
thor’s  it  is  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  deter¬ 
mine,  for  minds  can  only  communicate  by  words. 
It  is  this  difference  in  associated  concept  which 
often  makes  a  reader  fail  to  appreciate  the  pro- ' 
foundest  thoughts  of  an  author,  and  even,  on  the 
other  hand,  occasionally  to  see  depth  where  it 
does  not  exist. 

We  come  now  to  the  solution  of  the  problem- 
to  which  this  rather  extended  discussion  has 
been  preparatory.  How  is  an  author  to  convey, 
as  nearly  as  possible,  his  actual  idea?  And  the 
answer  is '  he  should  word  it  in  as  many  dif¬ 
ferent  ways  as  possible. 

If  a  person  had  never  been  to  a  city  and  you 
wanted  to  give  him  an  idea  of  it,  you  would 
show  him  photographs  taken  from  different 
viewpoints.  One  photograph  would  correct  and 
supplement  the  other.  And  the  more  photo- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


203 


graphic  viewpoints  he  saw  the  more  complete 
and  accurate  would  be  his  idea — the  more  his 
concept  would  approximate  the  actual  city.  But 
he  could  never  more  than  approximate ;  he  could 
never  obtain  the  idea  of  a  man  who  had  visited 
that  city. 

An  author’s  language  is  a  photograph  of  his 
thought.  He  can  never  actually  transfer  an 
idea,  but  by  wording  it  in  different  ways  he  can 
show  different  photographs  of  it. 

If,  for  example,  a  second  wording  does  not 
conform  with  the  first  concept  which  a  reader 
has  formed,  the  reader  will  be  obliged  to  modify 
that  concept.  And  if  the  idea  is  repeated  in  a 
number  of  different  ways  he  will  have  to  modify 
his  concept  so  much  that  he  will  gradually  more 
and  more  approximate  tlie  idea  of  the  author. 

I  remember  the  story  in  some  educational 
treatise  of  an  inspector  who  entered  a  school 
room,  asked  the  teacher  what  she  had  been  giv¬ 
ing  her  class,  and  finally  took  up  a  book  and 
asked  the  following  question,  “If  you  were  to 
dig  a  hole  thousands  and  thousands  of  feet  deep, 
would  it  be  cooler  near  the  bottom  or  near  the 
top,  and  why?”  Not  a  child  answered. 


204 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


Finally  the  teacher  said,  “I’m  sure  they  know 
the  answer  but  I  don’t  think  yon  put  the  ques¬ 
tion  in  the  right  way.  ’  ’  So  taking  the  hook  she 
asked,  “In  what  state  is  the  center  of  the 
earth?”  Immediately  came  the  reply  from  the 
whole  class  in  chorus,  “The  center  of  the  earth 
is  in  a  state  of  igneous  fusion.’^  .  .  . 

There  is,  and  has  been  for  the  past  generation, 
a  great  cry  in  educational  circles  that  we  should 
teach  things,  not  words.  In  some  instances  this 
is  inadvisable,  even  impracticable.  But  if  the 
teacher  in  the  foregoing  story  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  word  her  idea  in  at  least  more  than 
one  way,  she  might  have  implanted  a  real  idea  in 
her  pupils.  She  would  at  least  have  found  that 
as  it  was  they  had  none. 

One  more  question  remains.  If  you  are  writ¬ 
ing  a  composition,  a  letter,  an  essay,  or  even 
a  book,  what  is  the  best  way  to  get  down  all 
your  thoughts,  without  losing  any  of  value;  to 
get  them  down  in  the  best  order  and  in  the  best 
style?  In  other  words  what  is  the  path  of  great¬ 
est  efficiency  in  transferring  thoughts  from  your 
mind  to  paper? 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


205 


We  have  already  considered  such  devices  as 
shorthand.  Of  course  dictation,  where  it  is  pos¬ 
sible,  is  an  obvious  advantage.  But  I  mean 
here  to  consider  the  aspects  of  the  problem 
which  apply  more  especially  to  compositions  of 
some  length. 

It  is  related  of  Auguste  Comte  that  he  com¬ 
posed  his  books  by  thinking  them  over  down  to 
the  minutest  details,  down  to  the  very  phrase¬ 
ology  of  the  sentences,  before  penning  a  single 
word,  but  that  when  he  came  to  writing  he  could 
turn  out  an  astounding  amount  of  work  in  a 
given  time.  Unless  a  person  have  a  remarkable 
memory,  how^ever,  he  will  forget  most  of  what 
he  has  thought  by  the  time  he  comes  to  writing 
it.  Comte’s  method  might  nevertheless  be 
profitably  applied  to  short  sections  of  composi¬ 
tions.  And  where  conciseness  or  perspicuity 
are  desired,  it  will  often  be  found  useful  to  think 
out  an  entire  sentence  before  writing  a  word 
of  it. 

Perhaps  the  best  way  of  ensuring  efficiency  in 
writing  is  by  the  card  system.  This  consists  in 
writing  on  a  separate  card  every  valuable  idea 
that  occurs  to  you,  immediately  after  it  occurs. 


206 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


When  you  finally  come  to  writing  you  can  ar¬ 
range  these  cards  in  any  order  desired,  throw¬ 
ing  out  the  ideas  you  no  longer  consider  impor¬ 
tant,  and  adding  those  which  are  necessary  to 
complete  or  round  out  the  work. 


IX 


THINGS  WORTH  THINKING  ABOUT 


The  man  who  cannot  wonder,  who  does  not  habit¬ 
ually  wonder,  is  but  a  pair  of  spectacles  behind  which 
there  is  no  eye. — Carlyle. 

P  to  now  I  have  treated  exclusively  of  how 


x-y  to  ihink,  but  have  made  no  mention  of 
what  to  think.  I  have  treated  of  the  best  meth¬ 
ods  of  dealing  with  different  subjects  and  ques¬ 
tions;  I  have  not  considered  what  subjects  or 
problems  are  most  worth  dealing  with. 

Of  course  the  important  thing  is  that  you 
do  think.  It  is  not  absolutely  essential  that  the 
results  of  your  thinking  are  results  which  can 
be  directly  made  use  of.  Thinking  is  an  end 
in  itself.  Most  men  imagine  that  “thinking  for 
the  sake  of  thinking”  may  appeal  to  philos¬ 
ophers,  but  means  nothing  to  them,  as  they  like 
to  think  only  when  by  so  doing  they  can  for¬ 
ward  some  practical  end.  These  people  do 
themselves  an  injustice. 


207 


208 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


Perhaps  you,  0  reader,  are  among  them.  If 
so,  let  me  appeal  to  your  personal  experience. 
Have  you  ever  tried  to  solve  a  toy  puzzle,  tried 
to  take  the  two  wire  hooks  apart  without  bend¬ 
ing  them?  Or  have  you  ever  stopped  to  tackle  i 
a  problem  on  the  family  page  of  your  evening 
or  Sunday  newspaper?  “A  grocer  buys  fifteen  | 
dozen  eggs,  he  sells — ”  you  know  what  I  mean.  il 
You  admit  that  you  have.  Exactly.  You  have  | 
been  thinking  for  the  mere  sake  of  thinking.  | 

If  you  protest  that  you  didn’t  care  about  the  \ 
thinking,  that  you  took  no  pleasure  in  the  think-  i 
ing,  which  was  merely  incidental,  but  that 
what  really  urged  you  on  and  gave  you  pleas¬ 
ure  was  the  solution  of  the  puzzle,  you  are 
again  deceiving  yourself.  The  thinking  was  not 
incidental.  Thinking  and  problem  solving  are 
identical.  The  fact  is  that  you  set  yourself  to 
solving  a  problem,  to  removing  a  mental  hin¬ 
drance,  for  the  mere  sake  of  getting  the  answer, 
with  absolutely  no  thought  of  what  you  were  go¬ 
ing  to  do  with  the  answer  when  you  got  it. 

But  if  you  can  derive  so  much  pleasure  from 
thinking  which  you  cannot  put  to  use,  how  much 
greater  should  be  your  pleasure  when  your  con- 


1 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


209 


id  elusions  can  be  utilized?  For  when  you  think 
of  something  useful,  you  have  not  only  the  pres- 
'  ent  pleasure  of  solving  your  problem,  but  the 
1  ulterior  pleasure  of  applying  your  solution  to 
action,  or  to  the  solution  of  some  further  prob- 
i  lem.  And  while  I  again  admit  that  thinking  is 
an  end  in  itself,  tliis  does  not  prevent  it  from 
being  at  the  same  time  a  means  to  some  further 
end-  After  all  is  said  there  is  really  no  reason 
why  we  should  be  prejudiced  against  problems 
or  subjects  that  are  useful. 

The  mere  decision  that  we  should  think  of 
useful  questions  is  insufficient.  Very  few  ques¬ 
tions  are  without  some  use.  Even  the  solution 
of  the  family  page  puzzle  might  some  day  be 
useful  in  solving  a  similar  problem  arising  in 
your  own  business ;  and  even  if  this  never  came 
to  pass  you  might  spring  the  puzzle  on  your 
friends,  and  make  yourself  socially  more  inter¬ 
esting.  Thought  given  to  a  question  in  a  de¬ 
bating  book  now  before  me,  ^‘Resolved,  that 
Ferocious  Wild  Beasts  are  more  to  he  dreaded 
than  Venomous  Reptiles,”  might  result  in 
knowledge  which  would  come  handy  in  select¬ 
ing  equipment  if  one  decided  to  journey  to  the 


210 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


wilderness  of  South  America.  But  there  are 
millions  of  problems  of  as  much  use  as  these; 
and  it  is  not  within  the  power  of  one  lone  mor¬ 
tal,  of  years  three  score  and  ten,  to  compass 
even  a  corner  of  them.  Our  question  is  not — 
what  problems  are  of  use?,  but — of  how  much 
use  are  certain  problems?,  or  stated  in  another 
way, — what  is  the  relative  utility  of  problems? 

Any  adequate  consideration  of  this  question 
would  involve  the  selection  of  some  criterion  for 
utihty,  and  the  testing  of  individual  problems 
by  that  criterion.  But  to  treat  such  a  question 
with  anything  hke  justice  is  beyond  the  scope  of 
this  book;  it  would  require  almost  a  volume  in 
itself.  It  is  almost  the  same  as  the  problem. 
What  knowledge  is  of  most  worth  ?,  and  the  most 
masterly  treatise  on  that  question  which  has 
ever  been  written  can  he  found  in  Herbert  Spen¬ 
cer’s  epoch-making  little  work.  Education.  I 
sincerely  hope  that  the  reader  study  this.  But 
I  hope  even  more  earnestly  that  before  he  does 
so  he  first  think  the  problem  out  independently, 
for  it  is  one  of  the  most  important  he  can  put 
before  himself. 

But  our  present  question — that  of  the  relative 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


211 


importance  of  problems — is  slightly  different 
from  that  of  the  relative  importance  of  knowl¬ 
edge.  The  first  deals  with  thought  and  the 
second  with  information,  or  the  materials  of 
thought;  the  first  with  a  process  of  getting 
knowledge  and  the  second  with  knowledge  itself. 

I  believe  for  example  that  a  knowledge  of  his 
own  body  and  of  the  laws  of  health  is  the  most 
valuable  a  man  can  have,  but  there  are  few 
problems  concerning  the  body  which  I  would  in¬ 
clude  in  the  first  rank.  There  are  several  rea¬ 
sons  for  this.  In  the  first  place,  while  it  may 
be  true  that  such  questions  taken  as  a  whole 
are  more  important  than  any  other  class  of 
questions,  taken  separately  they  are  relatively 
minor ;  there  are  no  one  or  two  questions  of  all- 
encompassing  importance  to  which  all  the  others 
are  subsidiary.  Moreover,  such  questions, 
while  they  undoubtedly  require  thought  for  their 
solution,  depend  to  a  relatively  great  extent  on 
observation  and  experiment.  No  sane  medical 
student  would  sit  down  and  follow  out  a  lengthy 
course  of  reasoning  as  to  where  the  heart  is; 
he  would  merely  observe  or  dissect,  or  consult 
the  book  of  a  man  who  had  dissected,  and  save 


212 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


mental  fatigue.  Not  least  of  all,  questions  of  in 
physiology  require  extensive,  highly  technical  In 
and  detailed  information — information  which  i( 
requires  years  of  special  study  to  acquire — ^be-  ' s 
fore  any  thinking  that  is  at  all  safe  can  be  put  |t 
upon  them.  So  in  estimating  the  relative  value  j 
of  problems,  there  are  other  considerations  be-  i 
sides  the  value  of  knowledge. 

But  it  is  not  my  purpose  here  to  discuss  the  i 
general  principles  upon  which  the  selection  of  | 
worth-while  questions  should  be  made.  That  ^ 
task  I  leave  to  the  reader.  I  have  chosen  rather  j 
the  concrete  path  of  suggesting  a  list  of  ques-  < 
tions  which  I  consider  of  great  import.  I  be¬ 
lieve  that  no  matter  how  much  thought  the 
reader  gives  to  any  one  of  them  he  will  not  be 
losing  his  time. 

I  have  elsewhere  pointed  out  that  the  more 
knowledge  a  man  has  the  more  problems  he  will 
have.  It  is  equally  true  that  unless  a  man  has 
some  knowledge  on  a  subject  he  will  not  be  able 
to  appreciate  or  even  understand  some  of  its 
most  important  problems.  It  is  only  when  we 
begin  to  think  of  subjects  that  we  discover  prob¬ 
lems  and  realize  their  significance.  In  stating 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


213 


most  of  the  following  problems,  therefore,  I 
have  often  thought  it  necessary  to  add  a  few 
sentences  in  explanation,  and  have  sometimes 
stated  a  question  in  a  variety  of  forms  in  order 
to  more  clearly  convey  the  thought. 

Are  specific  characteristics,  acquired  during 
the  lifetime  of  cm  individual,  inherited  hy  his 
offspring?  I  have  referred  so  often  to  this 
problem  and  its  importance  that  further  ex¬ 
planation  is  hardly  necessary.  “Characteris¬ 
tics”  of  course  refer  to  intellectual  and  moral 
as  well  as  physical  characteristics. 

What  is  the  influence  of  the  individual  mind 
on  society  and  of  social  environment  on  the  in¬ 
dividual? 

Does  the  form  of  government  determine  the 
character  of  a  people,  or  does  the  character  of  a 
people  determine  their  form  of  government? 
Or  do  government  and  character  react  on  each 
other,  and  how?  The  same  question  may  be 
asked  of  all  other  social  institutions.  Does 
the  religion  of  a  people  determine  their  charac¬ 
ter,  or  does  the  character  of  a  people  determine 
their  religion?  This  whole  problem  is  some- 


214 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


what  similar  to  that  immediately  preceding,  re¬ 
garding  the  interaction  of  the  individual  and  the 
social  mind, 

, 

Is  society  for  the  benefit  of  the  individual  or 
is  the  individual  for  the  benefit  of  society? 

Should  the  jurisdiction  of  the  government  he 
extended  or  curtailed?  Or  should  it  be  ex¬ 
tended  in  some  directions  and  curtailed  in  oth¬ 
ers?  Does  the  answer  to  this  problem  depend 
on  the  answer  to  the  previous  one?  Another 
form  of  the  same  problem  is:  What  is  the 
proper  sphere  of  government?  ] 

Should  the  government  grant  monopolies?  j 
Patents,  for  example? 

What  would  be  the  most  practicable  plan  for 
abolishing  or  minimizing  war?  Those  who  do 
not  wish  to  beg  the  previous  question  may  first 
ask  whether  it  is  always  desirable  to  prevent  ; 
war,  whether  war  is  always  an  evil.  What  is 
the  effect  of  war  on  the  physical  future  of  the 
race?  on  national  and  individual  character?  on 
government?  on  national  liberty?  on  personal 
liberty?  What  are  the  ethics  of  war?  for  ag¬ 
gression?  for  territorial  conquest?  for  “national 
honor”?  for  defense  of  a  weaker  nation?  for  de- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


215 


fense  against  invasion  I  What  is  the  effect  of 
preparedness?  of  universal  preparedness?  of 
preparedness  of  an  individual  nation?  In  each 
case  what  are  the  principles  on  which  the  extent 
of  preparedness  should  be  determined?  What 
are  the  fundamental  causes  of  war?  How  can 
they  be  removed?  Is  it  possible  to  remove  all  of 
them? 

Which  is  the  rightful  owner  of  land,  the  com¬ 
munity  or  the  individual^  To  state  the  problem 
in  another  form:  Should  private  land  owner¬ 
ship  be  abolished? 

Who  should  he  entitled  to  vote?  This  of 
course  is  a  question  similar  to  woman  suffrage, 
but  it  is  much  broader.  It  deals  not  only  with 
the  qualification  of  sex,  but  of  age.  Should  any 
one  under  twenty-one  have  the  vote?  The  va¬ 
lidity  of  property  and  educational  qualifications 
should  also  be  considered. 

How  should  the  relations  of  the  sexes  he  regu- 
latedf  Put  in  slightly  narrower  and  perhaps 
less  objectionable  form:  What  would  be  just 
laws  governing  marriage  and  divorce? 

What  is  the  effect  of  attempted  State  inter¬ 
ference  with  the  law  of  supply  and  demand? 


216 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


Does  the  unrestricted  working  out  of  this  law 
forward  ultimate  justice?  Just  what  is  the  va- 
hdity  and  the  meaning  of  the  expression  “The 
law  of  supply  and  demand”?  The  question 
could  be  taken  up  in  connection  with  minimum 
wage  laws,  railroad  rate  regulations,  “extra 
crew”  laws,  etc. 

Which  is  the  best  policy:  free  trade,  revenue 
tariff,  or  protective  tariff?  Or  under  what  con¬ 
ditions  is  each  best  ?  With  what  classes  of  com¬ 
modities  ? 

What  would  he  an  equitable  and  sound  cur¬ 
rency  system?  This  question  is  somewhat 
technical,  and  would  have  to  be  considered  in 
the  form  of  a  number  of  subsidiary  problems. 
Ought  money  to  have  an  intrinsic  value  ?  What 
is  the  effect  of  “fiat”  paper  currency  on  money 
of  intrinsic  value  and  on  prices  ?  The  effect  of 
credit  ?  The  effect  of  fluctuations  in  the  supply 
of  gold?  Ought  there  be  a  double  standard  or 
a  multiple  standard?  etc. 

Should  conduct  be  judged  by  the  pleasure  or 
happiness  it  yields?  Stated  in  another  form,  al¬ 
most  a  different  problem:  Is  utility  a  good 
moral  guide? 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


217 


Should  conduct  he  judged  by  its  tendency  to 
produce  individual  well-being ,  or  should  it  be 
judged  by  its  tendency  to  produce  the  well-being 
of  all  humanity,  or  of  all  sentient  beings?  This 
problem  cannot  be  lightly  dismissed  in  favor 
of  universal  well-being.  This  becomes  apparent 
when  we  attempt  to  give  an  undogmatic  and 
non-question-begging  answer  to  the  query : 
Why  should  a  man  act  for  the  benefit  of  oth¬ 
ers? 

No  science  is  more  provocative  of  thought 
than  ethics.  The  question  of  whether  acts 
should  be  declared  good  or  bad  as  they  tend  to 
produce  pleasure  or  happiness,  either  individual 
or  in  humanity  as  a  whole,  or  whether  “vir¬ 
tue”  or  “morality”  is  an  end  in  itself,  is  one 
of  the  most  subtle  and  elusive  we  can  attempt 
to  solve;  no  matter  which  answer  we  give  we 
are  brought  into  logical  and  psychological  di¬ 
lemmas  from  which  it  seems  impossible  to  es¬ 
cape.  This  is  also  true  of  the  problem  of 
whether  our  knowledge  of  what  constitutes  right 
and  wrong  comes  from  experience  or  from  in¬ 
tuition. 

The  broadest  form  of  the  ethical  problem, 


218 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


which  includes  the  two  preceding  italicized  prob¬ 
lems,  is: 

What  is  the  proper  criterion  for  determining  I 
right  and  wrong  conduct?  Or  even  less  dog-  ’ 
matic:  Can  there  be  a  criterion  for  determin¬ 
ing  right  and  wrong  conduct,  and  what  is  it? 

Somewhat  allied  with  the  ethical  problem  is 
that  problem  of  problems :  how  to  live  ?  By  this 
is  meant  how  to  put  the  most  into  life  and  get 
the  most  out  of  it ;  what  vocation  to  follow ;  what  ■ 
hobbies,  amusements,  avocations  to  take  up; 
how  to  plan  time  by  months,  by  weeks,  by  days,  j 
by  hours.  How  much  time  and  energy  do  cer-  ; 
tain  activities  deserve?  How  much  can  we  af¬ 
ford  to  give  them?  Restated:  what  activities 
are  of  most  worth? 

Of  course  every  one  does  think  of  problems 
connected  with  the  art  of  living.  But  he  thinks 
of  them  as  little  unconnected  questions.  Rarely 
indeed  does  any  one  go  about  the  solution  of 
the  general  problem  of  living  in  an  orderly, 
systematic  manner.  To  insist  upon  the  broad  1 
practical  bearings  of  the  problem  would  be  un-  j 
necessary,  absurd.  By  its  very  nature  it  is  the  ii 
most  ‘‘practical”  question  we  can  ask.  Any  i 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


219 


particular  solution  or  treatment  may  be  imprac¬ 
tical,  but  this  does  not  affect  the  question  itself. 

What  are  the  respective  influences  of  environ¬ 
ment  {education,  experience,  etc.)  and  innate 
tendencies  in  determining  characterf  Which  is 
the  greater  determinant  ? 

Does  pleasure  depend  upon  the  satisfaction 
of  instinctive  desires,  or  do  desires  for  certain 
activities  depend  upon  the  pleasure  accompany¬ 
ing  the  previous  performance  of  such  activi¬ 
ties?  Does  an  activity  or  the  possession  of  an 
object  give  us  pleasure  because  we  have  pre¬ 
viously  desired  it,  or  do  we  desire  an  activity 
or  an  object  because  we  have  previously  ob¬ 
tained  pleasure  from  it?  Or  do  pleasure  and 
desire  interact,  and  just  how?  The  solution  of 
this  psychological  problem  is  of  tremendous  im¬ 
portance  in  ethics. 

Does  the  mind  depend  entirely  on  the  hrainf 
That  is,  are  all  thoughts,  emotions,  feelings, 
due  to  material  changes  in  the  brain?  The  an¬ 
swer  we  give  to  this  problem  may  determine  our 
answer  to  the  question  of  immortality. 

What  knowledge  is  of  most  worth?  I  have 
so  fully  discussed  the  importance  of  this  ques- 


220 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


tion  and  tlie  method  of  proceeding  with  its  solu¬ 
tion  that  further  explanation  is  needless.  * 

One  sphere  of  thought  where  the  thinker  is  " 
compelled  to  be  original ;  where  it  is  practically 
impossible  for  him  to  fall  into  beaten  tracks,  is 
invention.  But  there  is  useless  as  well  as  use¬ 
ful  invention.  A  man’s  ambition  may  range 
all  the  way  from  inventing  a  machine  to  harness 
directly  the  limitless  power  of  the  sun,  down 
to  devising  a  tenacious  tip  for  shoelaces.  But 
he  should  be  careful  about  inventing  something 
already  patented.  He  should  be  even  more 
careful  to  avoid  inventing  something  for  which 
there  is  no  demand.  One  of  Edison’s  first 
patents  was  for  a  machine  to  register  quickly 
the  votes  of  legislative  assemblies.  And  it 
worked.  But  the  legislative  assemblies  didn’t 
want  it,  because  they  didn’t  want  their  votes  j 
quickly  registered.  That  would  have  ended 
good  old  filibuster  methods.  Another  invention  . 
of  great  uselessness  which  has  been  several 
times  attempted  is  a  machine  to  write  words  just  i 
like  the  human  hand  writes  them.  There  are  ! 
really  so  many  useful  things  which  do  not  exist 
and  for  which  there  is  a  demand,  that  it  seems 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


221 


quite  a  pity  nine  out  of  ten  patents  in  the  files 
at  Washington  are  for  things  inutile.  If  the 
would-be  inventor  cannot  himself  think  of  some¬ 
thing  really  needed,  almost  any  big  patent  at¬ 
torney  house  will  send  him  an  entire  book  of 
suggestions  on  “What  to  Invent.” 

Invention  usually  requires  highly  technical 
knowledge,  not  to  speak  of  facilities  for  experi¬ 
ment  and  a  well-supplied  purse.  But  nothing 
gives  more  solid  satisfaction  to  its  creator  than 
a  successful  appliance.  While  the  conscientious 
pliilosopher  is  constantly  harassed  by  doubts  as 
to  whether,  after  all,  he  has  discovered  truth; 
the  inventor  need  not  worry.  His  machine 
either  works  or  it  does  not  work,  and  he  knotvs 
the  trutli  of  his  thought  thereby.  On  the  other 
hand  the  philosopher  will  always  have  some 
thoughts.  Be  they  true  or  not  they  may  at  least 
be  interesting  and  worth  recording,  whereas  the 
inventor  may  toil  on  for  years  and  years  with 
absolutely  nothing  to  show  for  his  exertion  at 
the  end.  .  .  . 

There  are  a  number  of  problems  that  are  not 
of  great  “practical”  importance,  but  whose 
theoretic  value  is  so  transcendent  as  to  compel 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


222 

attention.  Among  these  are  certain  problems  in 
psychology,  but  more  especially  in  metaphysics, 
philosophy  and  even  rehgion,  insofar  as  religion 
can  be  said  to  have  problems. 

Is  there  a  God  and  is  it  possible  for  man  to 
learn  anything  of  His  nature?  Some  readers 
may  object  to  the  first  part  of  this  question. 
But  I  state  it  because  I  am  anxious  to  avoid 
dogmatism. 

Is  the  soul  immortal?  What  do  we  mean  by 
the  soul?  Does  science  disprove  the  life  after 
death  ? 

What  is  the  test  of  truth?  How  shall  we 
know  truth  when  we  have  it?  AWiat  after  all  is 
“truth”? 

Are  our  wills  free,  or  are  our  actions  prede- 
termmed?  Some  may  object  to  this  way  of 
stating  the  question.  Much  confusion  exists  as 
to  the  meaning  of  the  problem.  A  different  way 
of  stating  it  would  lead  to  different  treatment. 
Wliat  is  the  “will”?  What  do  we  mean  by 
“free”?  What  do  we  mean  by  “predeter¬ 
mined”? 

The  problem  of  existence.  How  did  the  uni¬ 
verse  come  into  being?  This  is  the  last  prob- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


223 


lem  in  which  interest  can  he  stimulated  from 
without.  No  matter  in  how  many  different 
ways  he  phrases  it,  a  writer  cannot  convey  this 
sense  of  mystery  to  another.  It  must  arise  from 
within.  Most  of  the  time  we  accept,  we  take  for 
granted,  the  universe  and  the  existent  order  of 
things,  and  it  requires  the  greatest  effort  to  keep 
alive  our  mystification  and  doubt  for  even  short 
periods. 

The  list  of  questions  foregoing  is  of  course 
merely  suggestive.  It  is  impossible  to  select, 
say  twenty-five  questions,  and  pronounce  them 
the  twenty-five  most  important  that  can  be 
asked.  I  fully  realize  there  are  questions  of 
greater  importance  than  some  I  have  pro¬ 
pounded.  But  I  have  not  gone  so  far  as  to  ad¬ 
vise  that  every  one  of  these  should  be  thought 
over.  The  list  has  been  given  merely  for 
thought  stimulation,  and  to  indicate  what  is 
meant  by  “worth  while”  questions. 

Unfortunately  I  have  not  been  able  to  explain 
why  most  of  these  are  so  important.  To  have 
done  so  would  have  required  too  much  time  for 
each  individual  problem.  It  would  have  drawn 


224 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


us  too  far  out  of  our  subject.  The  reader  must  ® 
find  out  or  sense  the  importance  for  himself. 

Practically  aU  of  the  problems  given  in  the 
list  come  under  one  of  the  sciences,  especially  if 
we  count  metaphysics  or  philosophy  as  a  science, 
which  it  is  in  so  far  as  it  is  organized  knowl¬ 
edge.  This  may  seem  somewhat  narrow.  Now 
I  admit  there  are  important  problems  which  are 
not  included  in  any  science.  But  there  are  very  i 
few.  As  soon  as  deep  thought  is  given  to  a  ; 
problem  its  treatment  becomes  systematic.  It  i 
either  falls  into  one  of  the  sciences  or  a  new  ; 
science  evolves  about  it.  John  Stuart  Mill  once  ' 
started  a  journal  in  which  he  promised  himself  ' 
to  put  one  thought  a  day,  but  he  did  not  permit  I 
himself  to  record  there  any  thought  on  a  prob¬ 
lem  falling  within  one  of  the  special  sciences. 
None  of  the  thoughts  he  put  in  the  journal  is  of  ' 
any  great  value.  It  came  to  an  abrupt  end  in 
about  two  months. 

It  may  be  objected  that  though  the  questions 
selected  are  most  important  in  themselves,  there 
are  other  things  more  worth  thinking  about,  be¬ 
cause  of  the  mental  discipline  they  yield.  Now 
putting  aside  the  fact  that  questions  important 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


225 


in  themselves  should  be  dealt  with  ultimately — 
that  mental  discipline  would  be  useless  unless 
applied  to  important  problems — must  voice  my 
suspicion  that  the  most  useful  questions  are  also 
the  best  for  training  the  mind.  It  may  be  true 
that  punching  the  bag  will  help  a  prizefighter  in 
boxing.  But  other  things  equal,  a  man  who  has 
spent  one  week  in  actual  boxing  is  better  pre¬ 
pared  to  enter  the  prize  ring  than  one  who  has 
devoted  a  month  to  bag  punching.  The  best 
practice  for  boxing  is  boxing.  The  best  prac¬ 
tice  for  solving  important  questions  is  solving 
important  questions. 

Nor  do  I  admit  the  contention  is  valid  that 
one  problem  rather  than  another  should  be 
thought  of  because  it  is  “deeper.”  We  cannot 
truthfully  say  that  psychology  is  a  “deeper” 
science  than  ethics,  or  that  metaphysics  is  deeper 
than  psychology,  or  vice  versa.  Most  subjects 
and  most  problems  are  just  as  deep  as  we  care 
to  make  them.  Their  depth  depends  entirely  on 
how  deep  we  go  into  them.  This  applies  espe¬ 
cially  to  the  so-called  philosophical  sciences. 
We  may  give  them  shallow  treatment  or  we  may 
give  them  profound  treatment.  But  we  shall 


226 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


usually  find  that  the  deepest  questions  are  the 
most  important  questions.  For  the  most  im¬ 
portant  questions  have  generally  attracted  the 
greatest  minds;  consequently  they  have  been 
given  the  deepest  treatment;  and  when  a  man 
reads  the  attempted  solutions  of  these  great 
minds  his  thoughts  tend  toward  this  deeper 
plane.  Of  course  certain  problems,  especially 
in  mathematics,  can  be  dealt  with  by  only  one 
method.  In  this  case  we  may,  properly  speak 
of  some  problems  being  objectively  deeper  or  at 
least  more  difficult  than  others. 

Some  objections  may  be  offered  to  several  of 
the  questions  in  my  fist,  on  the  ground  that  they 
are  invalid.  Such  problems  as  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  and  the  problem  of  existence  may  be 
declared  inscrutable,  unsolvable.  Such  a  prob¬ 
lem  as  “Is  society  for  the  benefit  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual  or  is  the  individual  for  the  benefit  of  so¬ 
ciety?”  may  be  said  to  imply  that  society  is 
something  which  has  been  voluntarily  formed  I 
like  the  State.  It  may  be  declared  that  this  is 
not  the  case ;  it  may  be  objected  that  this  ques-  ^ 
tion  is  meaningless.  All  these  objections  may 
be  justified.  But  their  truth  cannot  be  deter- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


227 


mined  until  we  actually  attempt  a  solution. 
The  determination  of  the  validity  of  a  problem 
is  part  of  the  problem. 

We  come  now  to  the  question  of  what  is  most 
worth  reading.  The  simplest  answer  is  that 
that  is  most  worth  reading  which  is  most  worth 
thinking  about,  and  therefore  we  should  read 
those  books  which  deal  with  such  problems  as  I 
have  indicated.  But  this  counsel  needs  to  be 
supplemented. 

A  conservative  estimate  places  the  number  of 
books  in  the  world  at  4,500,000.  (This  estimate 
was  made  before  the  war  broke  out,  and  the 
war-books  by  now  have  doubtless  brought  the 
number  to  5,000,000.)  This  does  not  mean 
books  as  collections  of  printed  sheets  of  paper 
bound  together — books  as  physical  objects — for 
if  it  did  the  number  would  be  immensely 
greater.  It  moans  4,500,000  (or  more)  separate 
and  distinct  treatises.  If  you  were  to  read  one 
book  eveiy  two  w'eeks,  you  would  read  about 
twenty-five  a  year,  and  if  you  read  for  fifty 
years  you  would  cover  1,250.  One  book  in  every 
three  thousand  six  hundred!  (3,600!) 


228 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


From  this  it  is  apparent  that  even  the  most 
omnivorous  reader,  even  the  reader  who  can 
cover  a  book  swiftly  by  efficient  skipping,  will  jj 
at  least  have  to  ask  himself  before  beginning  a  d 
volume,  “Is  this  a  book  in  a  thousand?  Can  li 
afford  to  read  this  at  the  cost  of  missing  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  others?”  And  most 
men  who  ask  this  question  will  have  to  substi¬ 
tute  the  number  five  thousand,  or  even  ten  thou¬ 
sand. 

Nine-tenths  of  our  reading  is  on  mere  chance 
recommendation,,  passing  whim  or  by  sheer  ac-  J 
cident.  We  catch  sight  of  a  book  on  a  library  I 
table.  Having  nothing  better  to  do  we  pick  it  1 
up;  we  start  perusing  it.  Every  hook  read  in  I 
this  way  means  a  sinful  waste  of  time.  To  be  ] 
sure,  a  hook  read  in  this  chance  manner  might 
(accidentally)  he  very  good — even  better  than  ^ 
some  you  would  have  planned  for ;  hut  this  will  ■ 
happen  seldom,  and  is  never  a  justification  of 
the  practice.  By  going  a  round  about  way  to 
a  place  a  man  might  stumble  across  a  lost  pock- 
ethook,  but  this  would  not  justify  taking  round 
about  ways.  i 

Tho  first  thing  needed,  then,  is  that  we  should 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


229 


plan  our  reading.  Perhaps  the  best  way  to  do 
this  would  be  to  make  out  a  list  of  the  books  we 
I  intend  to  read  for  the  coming  year,  or  say  a  list 
of  from  a  dozen  to  twenty-five  volumes,  and 
then  read  them  in  the  order  listed.  Another 
good  plan  is  to  jot  down  the  title  of  every  book 
I  we  intend  to  read,  and  keep  the  fist  about  with 
t  us.  Then  when  we  meet  with  a  book  which  we 
.  thinli  would  be  good  to  read,  or  which  we  feel 
we  simply  must  read,  we  can  before  starting  it 
glance  at  our  list.  The  formidable  array  we 
find  there  will  probably  induce  us  either  to  give 
up  entirely  our  intention  to  read  the  book  be¬ 
fore  us,  or  at  least  to  put  it  somewhere  on  the 
list  which  will  allow  more  important  books  to 
be  read  first. 

Some  people  cannot  endure  planning  their 
reading  in  this  manner.  It  grates  on  them  to 
think  they  are  tied  down  to  any  sort  of  pro¬ 
gram;  it  seems  to  deprive  them  of  the  advan¬ 
tages  of  spontaneous  interest.  Well,  if  you  can¬ 
not  plan  your  reading  prospectively,  at  least 
plan  it  retrospectively.  If  you  cannot  keep  a 
list  of  books  you  intend  to  read,  at  least  keep  a 
list  of  books  you  have  read.  Refer  to  this  from 


230 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


time  to  time.  See  whether  you  have  been  read- 
ing  uniformly  good  hterature.  See  whether  you 
have  been  reading  too  much  on  one  topic  and  not 
enough  on  another,  and  what  topics  you  have 
been  long  neglecting.  But  at  best  this  method 
is  a  poor  substitute  for  planning  your  reading 
prospectively. 

We  should  plan  not  only  with  regard  to  topics 
and  subjects,  but  with  regard  to  authors.  Ob¬ 
viously  if  two  men  of  equal  ability  both  study 
the  same  subject,  one  will  get  more  out  of  his 
study  than  the  other  if  he  reads  authors  who 
treat  the  subject  on  a  deeper  plane — provided  of 
course  he  understands  them. 

Whether  consciously  or  not,  we  tend  to  imi¬ 
tate  the  authors  we  read.  If  we  read  shallow 
books  we  are  forced,  while  reading  them,  to  do 
shallow  thinking.  Our  plane  of  thought  tends  M 
toward  the  plane  of  thought  of  the  authors  we  I 
study;  we  acquire  either  habits  of  careful  crit-  ■ 
ical  thinking,  or  of  dogmatic  lack  of  thinking.  i 

This  emphasizes  the  importance  of  reading  \ 
the  best  books,  and  only  the  best  books.  Our 
plane  of  thinking  is  determined  not  alone  by 
the  good  books  we  read,  but  by  all  the  books 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


231 


we  read;  it  tends  toward  the  average.  Most 
men  imagine  that  when  they  read  a  good  book 
they  get  a  certain  amount  of  good  out  of  it,  and 
that  this  good  will  stay  with  them  undiminished. 
Provided  they  read  a  certain  number  of  serious 
books,  they  see  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
read  any  number  of  superficial  or  useless  books, 
or  any  amount  of  ephemeral  magazine  or  news¬ 
paper  literature.  They  expect  the  serious  read¬ 
ing  to  benefit  them.  They  do  not  expect  the 
shallow  reading  to  harm  them.  This  is  just  as 
if  they  were  to  buy  and  eat  unnutritious  and  in¬ 
digestible  food,  and  excuse  themselves  on  the 
ground  that  they  ate  nourishing  and  digestible 
food  along  with  it. 

The  analogy  may  be  carried  further.  As  it  is 
the  average  of  the  physical  food  you  digest 
which  ultimately  determines  the  constitution  of 
your  body,  so  it  is  the  average  of  the  mental 
food  you  absorb  which  determines  the  constitu¬ 
tion  of  your  mind.  One  good  meal  will  not  off¬ 
set  a  week  of  bad  ones ;  one  good  book  will  never 
offset  any  number  of  poor  books.  Further,  as 
no  one  has  a  perfect  memory,  you  do  not  retain 
all  you  read  any  more  than  you  retain  all  you 


232 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


eat.  Tkerefore  if  you  do  not  want  your  mind 

to  retrogress,  you  should  not  rest  satisfied  with 

books  already  read,  but  should  continue  to  read 

books  at  least  as  good  as  any  previous.  As  at 

any  given  time  your  bodily  health — so  far  as  it  ^ 

depends  on  food — is  mainly  determined  by  the 

.  £ 

meals  of  the  last  few  days  or  weeks,  so  is  your 
mental  health  dependent  on  the  last  few  books  V 
you  have  read. 

One  of  the  first  things  we  should  look  to  in  |j 
selecting  books  is  their  comprehensiveness.  Ij 
To  quote  Arnold  Bennett:  “Unless  and  until  j 
a  man  has  formed  a  scheme  of  knowledge,  be  it  * 
but  a  mere  skeleton,  his  reading  must  neces¬ 
sarily  be  unphilosophical.  He  must  have  at-  j 
tained  to  some  notion  of  the  interrelations  of  the 
various  branches  of  knowledge  before  he  can 
properly  comprehend  the  branch  of  knowledge 
in  which  he  specializes.”  ^  As  an  aid  in  form¬ 
ing  this  scheme  of  Imowledge,  Mr.  Bennett  sug¬ 
gests  Herbert  Spencer’s  First  Principles.  I 
heartily  endorse  his  choice.  I  would  add  to  it 
the  essay  on  The  Classification  of  the  Sciences 
by  the  same  author. 


1  Litera/ry  Taste. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


233 


These  works  are  classics,  and  one  of  the  most 
regrettable  of  difficulties  is  that  of  getting  peo¬ 
ple  to  read  the  classics.  Mention  to  a  man  Dar¬ 
win’s  Origin  of  Species  or  Descent  of  Man,  and 
he  will  reply,  “Oh,  yes,  that’s  the  theory  that 
says  men  descended  from  monkeys.  ’  ’  Satisfied 
that  he  knows  all  there  is  to  know  about  it,  he 
never  reads  any  of  Darwin’s  works.  Now 
passing  over  the  fact  that  the  theory  does  not 
assert  that  man  descended  from  monkeys  and 
never  intended  to  assert  it ; — what  a  compliment 
to  Darwin’s  thought  and  brevity  to  assume  that 
all  his  books  can  he  summed  up  in  a  phrase! 
But  Darwin  is  not  the  only  sufferer.  If  we 
come  across  the  title  of  a  classic  often  enough, 
and  hear  a  lot  of  talk  “about  it  and  about”  and 
a  few  quotations  from  it,  we  gradually  come  to 
believe  we  know  all  the  contents  worth  know¬ 
ing.  This  is  why  Shakespeare,  and  in  fact  most 
of  the  classics,  are  so  seldom  actually  read,  and 
why  we  go  for  our  serious  reading  to  a  hook  on 
“How  to  Read  Character  from  Handwriting” 
or  to  a  sensational  volume  on  prostitution  by 
one  of  our  modern  “sociologists.”  The  only 
way  we  can  keep  ourselves  from  such  stuff  is  to 


234 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


lay  out  some  definite  end,  some  big  objective, 
to  be  attained;  and  before  reading  a  book  we 
should  ask  bow  that  helps  us  to  attain  it. 

I  have  not  given  a  formal  list  of  books  worth 
reading,  nor  do  I  intend  to ;  one  of  the  reasons 
being  that  the  work  has  been  done  so  well 
by  others.  Ever  since  Sir  John  Lubbock  pub- 
fished  his  fist  of  one  hundred  best  books,  the 
number  of  selections  has  been  legion.  Charles 
Eliot’s  selection  for  his  Five  Foot  Shelf  is  to 
be  commended,  and  a  little  volume  by  Frank 
Parsons  The  World’s  Best  Books.  Of  course 
our  purpose  is  special: — to  find  the  best  books 
for  making  thinkers;  but  the  remarks  already 
made  should  aid  the  reader  sufficiently  in  mak¬ 
ing  his  own  selection  from  these  fists.  As  pre¬ 
viously  pointed  out,  if  the  reader  is  studying  a 
specialty  he  can  usually  find  a  fairly  well  se¬ 
lected  bibliography  at  the  end  of  the  article  on 
that  specialty  in  any  standard  encyclopedia. 

The  reader  probably  sees  clearly  by  now 
that  it  is  impossible  to  do  his  own  thinking  in 
every  case;  that  if  he  is  to  have  sound  knowl¬ 
edge  on  important  questions  he  must  have  the 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


235 


courage  to  be  ignorant  of  many  things.  How 
much  trouble  to  go  to  in  any  particular  case  it 
is  difficult  to  say. 

We  can  lay  it  down  as  a  general  principle  that 
questions  of  the  highest  importance,  such  as 
those  of  which  I  have  given  a  suggestive  list — 
questions  which  deal  with  facts  known  or  easily 
ascertainable,  and  which  depend  for  their  right 
solution  more  on  thinking  than  on  anything 
else — a  man  should  solve  for  himself,  and 
should  take  the  greatest  caution  in  so  doing. 
On  the  other  hand,  questions  of  the  highest  im¬ 
portance  which  depend  for  their  solution  mainly 
on  full  and  detailed  knowledge  of  highly  tech¬ 
nical  facts  which  lie  outside  of  one’s  specialty, 
should  be  dealt  with  by  consulting  authorities 
and  taking  their  word  for  it. 

There  still  remains  the  great  mass  of  ques¬ 
tions  which  are  relatively  unimportant,  but  con¬ 
tinually  coming  up  in  our  daily  life,  the  an¬ 
swers  to  which  greatly  influence  our  conduct. 
Time  forbids  us  not  only  from  thinking  these 
out  for  ourselves,  but  even  from  consulting  an 
authority — for  the  selection  of  an  authority 
often  involves  almost  as  much  intellectual  re- 


236 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


sponsibility  as  self-thinking.  The  only  thing 
we  can  do  is  to  accept  the  verdict  of  popular 
opinion. 

Custom,  convention  and  popular  belief,  no 
matter  how  many  times  they  have  been  over¬ 
thrown,  have  fairly  reliable  foundations.  Popu¬ 
lar  ideas,  to  be  sure,  are  products  of  mere  unor¬ 
ganized  experience.  They  are  empirical;  sel¬ 
dom  if  ever  scientific.  But  though  they  are 
founded  on  experience  which  is  unorganized, 
they  are  founded  on  so  much  of  it  that  they  are 
worthy  of  respect.  Society  could  not  long  exist 
if  it  persisted  in  acting  on  beliefs  altogether 
wrong,  though  it  is  safe  to  say  that  popular 
ideas  are  never  more  than  approximately  right. 
But  unless  and  until  you  have  either  thoroughly 
thought  over  a  question  for  yourseM  or  have 
consulted  an  acknowledged  and  trustworthy  au¬ 
thority,  it  is  best  tentatively  to  accept  and  act 
on  common  belief.  To  think  and  act  differently, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  being  different,  is  un¬ 
profitable  and  dangerous,  all  questions  of  ethics 
aside. 


X 


THINKING  AS  AN  ART 

I  discovered,  though  unconsciously  and  insensibly, 
that  the  pleasure  of  observing  and  reasoning  was  a 
much  higher  one  than  that  of  skill  and  sport. — Dar¬ 
win’s  Autobiography. 

TO  know  is  one  thing;  to  do  another.  To 
know  the  science  of  thinking  is  not  to  pos¬ 
sess  the  art  of  thinkiug.  Yet  I  doubt  not  that 
there  are  readers  who  having  finished,  would 
deem  it  sufficient  that  they  had  the  knowledge, 
and  would  feel  they  had  gotten  all  the  good  or 
harm  out  of  this  book  that  there  is  in  it.  They 
would  put  it  aside.  They  would  think  no  more 
of  it. 

The  trouble  w'ith  these  good  people  (unfor¬ 
tunately  I  speak  of  the  overwhelming  majority) 
is  that  they  expect  information  to  apply  itself. 
They  expect  that  once  they  have  learnt  a  thing 
they  will  act  according  to  their  knowledge. 

237 


238 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


This  is  the  very  last  thing  a  normal  human  be¬ 
ing  does. 

The  only  way  we  can  ever  get  ourselves  to 
apply  knowledge  is  to  do  so  by  what  will  at  first 
be  a  conscious  effort.  We  shall  have  to  devote 
much  attention  to  it.  Old  established  custom 
will  have  to  be  broken.  We  do  not  act  according 
to  knowledge ;  we  act  according  to  habit.  Even  | 
after  we  have  decided,  for  instance,  that  we  j 
ought  to  give  a  little  independent  thinking  to  a  ' 
subject  before  reading  about  it,  we  shall  very  , 
likely  continue  to  read  books  without  previous 
thought.  ! 

Some  people  may  imagine  that  the  reason  we 
do  not  practice  what  we  learn  is  that  we  do  not 
remember  what  we  learn.  They  are  mistaken. 
When  learning  German,  I  had  much  difficulty  in 
knowing  what  prepositions  required  the  geni¬ 
tive,  dative  or  accusative  cases.  I  finally  learnt 
all  of  them  alphabetically  in  their  respective 
groups,  and  could  rattle  them  off  at  a  rate  which 
would  make  most  native  Germans  blush  for 
envy.  The  only  trouble  was  that  when  I  came 
to  an  actual  sentence  requiring  one  of  these 
prepositions  I  continually  forgot  to  apply  my 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


239 


knowledge.  Some  one  would  have  to  point  an 
error  out  to  me  before  it  would  occur  to  me  to 
do  so.  Even  then  I  would  have  to  think  long 
before  the  proper  case  occurred. 

But  while  it  is  not  true  that  we  fail  to  prac¬ 
tice  a  thing  merely  because  we  fail  to  remember 
it,  it  is  true  that  if  we  do  not  practice  we  are 
not  very  likely  to  remember  it.  The  only  way 
we  could  remember  would  be  by  constant  re¬ 
reading,  for  knowledge  unused  tends  to  drop  out 
of  mind.  Knowledge  used  does  not  need  to  be 
remembered;  practice  forms  habits  and  habits 
make  memory  unnecessary.  The  rule  is  noth¬ 
ing  ;  the  application  is  everything. 

Practice  being  the  thing  needful,  it  is  essential 
that  we  put  aside  a  certain  amount  of  time  for 
it.  Unless  you  lay  out  a  definite  program,  un¬ 
less  you  put  aside,  say,  one-half  hour  every  day, 
for  pure  downright  independent  thinking,  you 
will  probably  neglect  to  practice  at  all.  One- 
half  hour  out  of  every  twenty-four  seems  little 
enough.  You  may  think  you  can  fit  it  in  with 
no  trouble.  But  no  matter  how  shamelessly  you 
have  been  putting  in  your  time,  you  have  been 
doing  something  with  it.  In  order  to  get  in 


240 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


your  thirty  minutes  of  thinking,  you  will  have 
to  put  aside  something  which  has  been  habitually 
taking  up  a  half  hour  of  your  day.  You  cannot 
expect  simply  to  add  thinking  to  your  other  ac¬ 
tivities.  Some  other  activity  must  be  cut  down 
or  cut  out.’^ 

You  may  think  me  quite  lenient  in  advising 
only  one-half  hour  a  day.  You  may  even  go  so  i 
far  as  to  say  that  one-half  hour  a  day  is  not 
enough.  Perhaps  it  isn’t.  But  I  am  particu-  i 
larly  anxious  to  have  some  of  the  advice  in  this  i 
book  followed.  And  I  greatly  fear  that  if  I  ad-  | 
vised  more  than  a  half  hour  most  readers  would 
serenely  neglect  my  advice  altogether.  After 
you  have  been  able  for  a  month  to  devote  at  least 
one-half  hour  a  day  to  thinking,  you  may  then, 
if  you  choose,  extend  the  time.  But  if  you  at¬ 
tempt  to  do  too  much  at  once,  you  may  find  it  so 
inconvenient,  if  not  impracticable,  that  you  may 
give  up  attempting  altogether.  Throughout 
the  book  I  have  constantly  kept  in  mind  that  I 
wish  my  advice  followed.  I  have  therefore  laid 
down  rules  which  may  reasonably  be  adhered  to 

1  And  consult  Arnold  Bennett’s  How  to  Live  on  24  Hours 
a  Day. 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


241 


by  an  average  human,  rules  which  do  not  require 
a  hardened  asceticism  to  apply,  and  rules  which 
have  occasionally  been  followed  by  the  author 
himself.  In  this  last  respect,  I  flatter  myself, 
the  present  differs  from  most  books  of  advice. 

Above  all  I  urge  the  reader  to  avoid  falling 
into  that  habit  so  prevalent  and  at  the  same  time 
so  detrimental  to  character : — acquiescing  in  ad¬ 
vice  and  not  following  it.  You  should  view 
critically  every  sentence  in  this  book.  Wher¬ 
ever  you  find  any  advice  which  you  think  need¬ 
less,  or  which  requires  unnecessary  sacrifice  to 
put  into  practice,  or  is  wrong,  you  should  so 
mark  it.  And  you  should  think  out  for  your¬ 
self  what  would  be  the  best  practice  to  follow. 
But  when  you  agree  with  any  advice  you  see 
here,  you  should  make  it  your  business  to  follow 
it.  The  fact  that  part  of  the  advice  may  be 
wrong  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  follow 
the  part  that  is  right. 

Most  people  honestly  intend  to  follow  advice, 
and  actually  start  to  do  it,  but  .  .  .  They  try 
to  practice  everything  at  once.  As  a  result  they 
end  by  practicing  nothing.  The  secret  of  prac¬ 
tice  is  to  learn  thoroughly  one  thing  at  a  time. 


242 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


As  already  stated,  we  act  according  to  habit. 
The  only  way  to  brealf  an  old  habit  or  to  form  a 
new  one  is  to  give  our  whole  attention  to  the 
process.  The  new  action  will  soon  require  less 
and  less  attention,  until  finally  we  shall  do  it 
automatically,  without  thought — in  short,  we 
shall  have  formed  another  habit.  This  accom¬ 
plished  we  can  turn  to  still  others. 

As  an  example  let  us  take  the  different 
methods  of  looking  at  questions  considered  in 
the  second  chapter.  Most  readers  will  glance 
over  these  methods,  and  agree  that  they  are  very 
helpful — and  the  next  problem  which  perplexes 
them  will  probably  be  solved  by  no  method  at 
all,  or  will  be  looked  at  from  one  standpoint 
only. 

About  the  best,  perhaps  the  only  way  by  which 
the  reader  could  get  himself  to  use  habitually 
every  valuable  method  possible,  would  be  to  take 
one  of  the  methods,  say  the  evolutionary,  and 
consciously  apply  it,  or  attempt  to  apply  it,  to 
a  whole  list  of  problems.  In  this  way  he  could 
learn  the  possibilities  and  limits  of  that  particu¬ 
lar  method.  Again,  he  could  take  an  individual 
problem  and  consciously  attempt  to  apply  every 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


243 


possible  method  to  its  solution.  He  could  con¬ 
tinue  such  practice  until  he  had  so  formed  the 
habit  of  using  method  that  it  would  be  employed 
almost  unconsciously.  Concentration,  method 
in  book  reading,  and  all  the  other  practices  here 
advocated  should  be  learned  in  the  same  con¬ 
scious,  painstaking  way,  one  thing  at  a  time, 
until  thoroughly  ingrained.  It  must  be  left  to 
the  reader’s  own  ingenuity  to  devise  the  best 
methods  of  acquiring  each  particular  habit. 

Of  course  it  is  possible  to  do  a  thing  well — 
it  is  possible  to  follow  the  rule  for  doing  it — 
without  knowing  the  rule.  If  a  man  take  a  live 
interest  in  a  subject  he  will  naturally  tend  to 
look  at  it  from  a  number  of  different  viewpoints. 
If  he  be  eternally  on  the  lookout  for  errors  and 
fallacies  in  his  own  thinking  he  will  gradually 
evolve  a  logic  of  his  own.  And  this  logic  will 
be  concrete,  not  abstract;  it  will  be  something 
built  into,  an  integral  part  of,  concrete  thought, 
and  he  will  be  constantly  strengthening  the 
habit  of  using  it.  Compared  with  the  logic  of 
the  books  it  may  be  crude,  but  it  will  not  consist 
of  mere  rules,  which  can  be  recited  but  which 
are  seldom  applied. 


244 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


So  with  grammar.  Instance  the  writer’s  ex¬ 
perience  with  German.  Few  native  Germans 
could  recite  offhand  what  prepositions  govern 
the  genitive,  dative  and  accusative,  even  if  they 
knew  what  was  meant  by  these  terms.  But  they 
would  (most  of  them)  use  these  cases  correctly, 
and  without  the  least  thought.  The  educated 
Englishman  or  American  flatters  himself  that 
his  correct  speech  is  due  to  his  study  of  gram¬ 
mar.  This  is  far  from  true.  His  speech  is  due 
to  unconscious  imitation  of  the  language  of  the 
people  with  whom  he  comes  into  contact,  and  of 
the  hooks  he  reads.  And  needless  to  say,  the 
cultivated  man  comes  into  contact  with  other 
cultivated  men  and  with  good  literature;  the  ig¬ 
noramus  does  not. 

Most  of  our  thinking  is  influenced  in  this  way. 
The  great  thinkers  of  the  past  improved  their 
innate  powers  not  by  the  study  of  rules  for 
thinking,  but  by  reading  the  works  of  other  great 
thinkers,  and  unconsciously  imitating  their 
habitual  method  and  caution. 

The  fact  to  remember  is  that  a  rule  is  some¬ 
thing  that  has  been  formulated  after  the  thing 
which  it  rules.  It  is  merely  an  abstract  of  cur- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


245 


rent  practice  or  of  good  practice.  Rules  are 
needful  because  they  teach  in  little  time  what 
would  otherwise  require  much  experience  to 
learn,  or  which  we  might  never  discover  for  our¬ 
selves  at  all.  They  help  us  to  learn  things  right 
in  the  beginning;  they  prevent  us  from  falling 
into  wrong  habits.  The  trouble  with  unsupple¬ 
mented  imitation,  conscious  or  unconscious,  is 
that  we  tena  to  imitate  another’s  faults  along 
with  his  virtues.  Rules  enable  us  to  distinguish, 
especially  if  we  have  learned  the  reason  for  the 
rules. 

But  practice  and  rules  should  not  be  compared 
as  if  they  were  opposed.  The  true  road  is 
plenty  of  practice  with  conscientious  regard  to 
rule.  It  may  be  insisted  that  this  has  its  limits ; 
that  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  a  man  cannot 
improve  himself.  I  admit  that  practice  has  its 
limits.  It  may  be  true  that  there  is  a  point  be¬ 
yond  which  a  man  cannot  advance.  But  no¬ 
body  knows  those  limits  and  no  one  can  say 
when  that  point  has  come. 

No  two  individuals  profit  in  the  same  degree 
by  the  same  practice.  With  a  given  amount  one 
man  will  always  improve  faster  than  another. 


246 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


But  the  slower  man  may  keep  up  with  his  more  ai 
speedy  brother  by  more  practice.  I  shall  not  {: 
repeat  here  the  fable  of  the  hare  and  the  tor-  j 
toise.  But  any  one  who  has  discovered  a  flaw  1 
in  his  mental  make-up,  any  one  who  believes  ] 
that  he  cannot  concentrate,  or  that  his  memory 
is  poor,  and  that  therefore  he  can  never  become  1 
a  thinker,  should  find  consolation  in  the  words  i 
of  William  James : 

“Depend  upon  it,  no  one  need  be  too  much 
cast  down  by  the  discovery  of  his  deficiency  in 
any  elementary  faculty  of  the  mind.  .  .  .  The  { 
total  mental  eflSciency  of  a  man  is  the  resultant  f 
of  all  his  faculties.  He  is  too  complex  a  being  ; 
for  any  one  of  them  to  have  the  casting  vote. 
If  any  one  of  them  do  have  the  casting  vote,  ' 
it  is  more  likely  to  be  the  strength  of  his  desire 
and  passion,  the  strength  of  the  interest  he  takes 
in  what  is  proposed.  Concentration,  memory, 
reasoning  power,  inventiveness,  excellence  of  the 
senses — all  are  subsidiary  to  this.  No  matter 
how  scatter-brained  the  type  of  a  man’s  succes¬ 
sive  fields  of  consciousness  may  be,  if  he  really 
care  for  a  subject,  he  will  return  to  it  inces¬ 
santly  from  his  incessant  wanderings,  and  first 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


247 


and  last  do  more  with  it,  and  get  more  results 
from  it,  than  another  person  whose  attention 
may  he  more  continuous  during  a  given  interval, 
I  but  whose  passion  for  the  subject  is  of  a  more 
j  languid  and  less  permanent  sort.  ’  ’  ^ 


*  Talks  to  Teachers. 


XI 


BOOKS  ON  THINKING 

The  reader  who  desires  to  study  further 
on  the  subject  of  thinking  will  find  a  wide 
field  before  him — ^but  he  will  have  to  search  in 
cosmopolitan  quarters.  While  much  has  been 
written  on  thinking,  it  has  been  in  an  incidental 
manner,  and  has  found  its  way  into  books  writ¬ 
ten  mainly  to  illuminate  other  subjects.  Among 
the  few  books  or  essays  devoted  exclusively  or 
mainly  to  thinking  may  be  mentioned; — John 
Locke,  The  Conduct  of  the  Understanding ; 
Isaac  Watts,  The  Improvement  of  the  Mind; 
Arnold  Bennett,  Mental  Efficiency;  T.  Sharper 
Knowlson,  The  Art  of  Thinking;  Arthur  Scho¬ 
penhauer,  On  Thinking  for  Oneself,  in  his  Es¬ 
says.  The  last  is  especially  recommended.  It 
is  only  about  a  dozen  pages  long,  and  is  the  most 
stimulating  essay  written  on  the  subject.  This, 
together  with  John  Locke’s  Conduct  (which, 
by  the  way,  is  also  fairly  short)  may  be  consid- 

248 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


249 


ered  the  two  “classics”  in  the  meager  literature 
on  thinking. 

There  is  an  extensive  literature  on  the 
psychology  of  reasoning,  on  the  “positive” 
science  of  thinking.  The  best  single  work  on 
this  subject  is  John  Dewey’s  How  We  Think. 
William  James’  chapter  on  Reasoning  in  his 
Principles  of  Psychology  might  also  he  con¬ 
sulted  with  profit.  S.  S.  Colvin’s,  The  Learn¬ 
ing  Process  contains  some  interesting  chapters 
bearing  on  thought. 

On  method,  the  amount  of  literature  is  even 
more  imposing  than  that  on  the  psychology  of 
reasoning.  Probably  the  most  thorough  book  is 
Stanley  Jevon’s  The  Principles  of  Science, 
though  this,  consisting  of  two  volumes,  will  re¬ 
quire  quite  some  ambition  to  attack.  A  good 
recent  short  work  is  J.  A.  Thomson,  Introduc¬ 
tion  to  Science.  Herbert  Spencer’s  short  essay. 
An  Element  in  Method,  in  his  Various  Frag¬ 
ments  might  also  be  mentioned.  Of  those  works 
treating  method  mainly  from  a  corrective  stand¬ 
point,  I  have  already  mentioned  Jevon’s  Ele¬ 
mentary  Lessons  in  Logic.  The  authoritative 
and  most  comprehensive  book  on  logic  is  still 


250 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


John  Stuart  Mill’s  great  tome.  Of  course  this 
hst  of  books  ou  method,  as  well  as  that  ou  the 
psychology  of  reasoning,  cannot  pretend  to  he 
more  than  merely  suggestive.  If  the  reader  de¬ 
sires  an  extensive  bibhography  in  either  of  these 
subjects  he  will  probably  find  it  in  one  of  the 
books  mentioned. 

On  doubt  and  belief,  William  Clifford,  The 
Ethics  of  Belief,  and  William  James,  The  Will 
to  Believe,  might  be  read.  The  viewpoints  of 
the  two  essays  are  in  almost  direct  contradic¬ 
tion. 

On  reading,  Alexander  Bain’s  The  Art  of 
Study,  in  his  Practical  Essays,  will  be  found 
useful.  Bacon’s  essay  On  Studies,  which  is  not 
more  than  a  couple  pages  long,  contains  more 
concentrated  wisdom  on  the  subject  than  is  to 
be  found  anywhere. 

On  subjects  most  worth  thinking  about,  the 
reader  cannot  do  better  than  read  Herbert  Spen¬ 
cer’s  essay  What  Knowledge  is  of  Most  Worth? 
in  his  Education.  As  to  books  most  worth  read¬ 
ing,  consult  the  lists  of  John  Morley,  Sir 
John  Lubbock,  and  Frederic  Harrison;  Sonnen- 
schein’s  Best  Boohs  (in  two  volumes) ;  Bald- 


THINKING  AS  A  SCIENCE 


251 


win’s  The  Booh  Lover;  Dr.  Eliot’s  Five  Foot 
Shelf  and  Frank  Parson’s  The  World’s  Best 
Boohs,  previously  referred  to. 

On  the  art  of  living — ^the  art  of  planning  time 
so  as  to  have  room  for  thinking,  as  well  as  val¬ 
uable  hints  as  to  how  that  thinking  is  to  be  car¬ 
ried  out — consult  Arnold  Bennett,  How  to  Live 
on  Twenty-four  Hours  a  Hay,  and  E.  H.  Griggs, 
The  Use  of  the  Margin  (both  very,  very  small 
books). 

Finally,  there  is  much  useful  material,  as  well 
as  incalculable  inspiration,  to  be  obtained  from 
the  intellectual  and  literary  biographies  of  great 
thinkers.  Especially  is  this  true  of  autobiog¬ 
raphy.  Among  others  may  be  mentioned  the 
autobiographies  of  John  Stuart  Mill  and  Her¬ 
bert  Spencer,  and  an  autobiographical  fragment 
by  Charles  Darwin. 


THE  END 


/ 


c 


Duke  University  Libraries 


D00629286X 


